Famous Last Words
by Maura Maud Jadeit
Summary: On late Friday afternoon Spencer Reid learns three very valuable lessons: good deeds have annoying tendency of being punished in the right time; half of an hour can be a very long time; so called Reid's effect was pure self-preservation. Jack and cousins.
1. Chapter 1: Famous Last Words

**DISCLAIMER:** The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

It's my second fic and obviously English is not my first language as You will probably quickly spot it. However I hope that I'd given the characters the justice they deserve.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

* * *

><p><strong>Famous Last Words<strong>

He was finishing his second mug of coffee for the afternoon and polishing the final report about strangler from Princeton, NJ between wondering which deities he had to piss off to be the only one from the team stuck in BAU at Friday afternoon.

Well, technically Morgan was in Baltimore delivering the profile on a high school bomber, Rossi and Seaver were in Boston, running two ViCAP interviews, Hotch was stuck in an important budget meeting, JJ wasn't supposed to return to work until Monday and Garcia warned every profiler in the bullpen that she was doing emergency backup and that every person who would dare to enter her liar without the news that the world is ending would experience sudden crash of all his or hers personal electronic devices.

So in the end it was just him and his reports. The whole mountain of them.

"Uncle Spencer!" he heard a happy by his left and he raised his head.

He came nose to nose with grinning Jack Hotchner.

"Hi Jack," he smiled. "What brings you here?"

"Aunt Jess," Jack answered simply. "Molly, Rory and Zack came with us too."

He raised his head a bit higher above Jack's head and spotted three blondes standing by Morgan's old desk. Two girls and one boy varying in age between about eleven-twelve (older girl), four-five (younger girl) and seven-eight (the other boy).

"Can you show us a magic trick Uncle Reid?" Jack asked eagerly.

"Sure, why not," Reid grinned, taking a break would be nice and having the attention of all kids focused at one point meant that Jessica Berkley wouldn't have to run around the building in search of them.

"Come here," Jack waved at his cousins. "Uncle Reid will show us magic."

"Doctor Reid?" Jessica's voice distracted him for a moment. "Do you know where Aaron went?"

He looked up to see her standing on the ramp in the doorway to Hotch's office.

"Budget meeting," Reid answered simply. "But he should be back in half of hour."

Jessica checked her watch with a pained expression.

"I can watch them for half of hour," Reid offered. "You look like you are running late anyway."

"Mum is going to visit grandpa Joe," the older girl said grimly. "Said that she has to go alone so Uncle Aaron promised to watch us for the afternoon."

"We don't want to go anyway," the other boy, Zack shrugged. "That…"

"Zack!" Jessica hissed softly.

"Father would be there," Zack finished grimly. "He doesn't want to see us and we don't want to see him."

"I really can watch over them for half of an hour if you are in hurry," Reid offered again. "And Hotch would have to come back to the office anyway after the meeting so it's not that he would miss them."

"Thank you, you are godsend, Doctor Reid," Jessica beamed at him then she looked at the four kids and said in a warning tone, "Try to behave."

"So who wants to see a magic trick?" Reid smiled.

Having an audience was rewarding while pulling a magic trick and a very observant audience happily busied themselves with practicing making the four dimes he pulled from his pocket disappear and reappear, meaning the oldest girl, Molly and younger boy, Zack did because they had fingers long enough to make successful attempts but Jack and Rory grew bored easily which lead Reid into fishing out markers and sheets of paper and having the four of them seated by the long table behind his back.

It allowed him to finish the report in between observing the bunch from the corner of his eye and watching the clock.

Half of an hour mark had passed and there was still no sign of Hotch.

"I'm tired," Rory yawned. "When uncle Aaron will come?"

"Soon," Reid smiled at her. "He should be finishing the meeting now."

Five minutes later:

"Is he coming now?" Rory asked sleepily.

"He will come in a moment," Reid answered nervously as he check his watch again.

It was ten minutes past the supposed end of the meeting and there was still no sign of Hotch.

"Pity that we cannot watch a movie," Zack sighed heavily.

"Sure you can," Reid offered and looked sideways at yawning Jack. "Give me a moment and I will put something for you but you two can go to the vending machines down the hall to buy some snacks while I will take Jack and Rory upstairs for a short nap."

"I don't want to," Jack yawned.

"Sure you don't," Reid agreed. "You are just going to let your eyes rest a bit so you can play when your dad comes back, kay?"

Jack looked at him suspiciously but Rory was already standing by Reid's leg with her arms outstretched so he could pick her up more easily.

"Few minutes," Reid winked at Jack.

"Okay," Jack yawned. "But I want to hear a story first."

"Sure Jack, what kind of story would you like?" Reid offered.

"About dinos," Jack said happily.

"Princesses," Rory said petulantly.

"How about a princess of dinos?" Reid asked pensively, trying to find middle ground.

Both kids looked at him skeptically but apparently his mediating abilities were convincing enough for Jack to allow him to lead the two of them to Hotch's office where Jack laid down on the couch while Reid made a makeshift crib from the armchairs for Rory.

He barely had started the story and only managed to get to the part where supposed princess of dinos had wandered too far away from her family when both kids fell asleep.

By that time he had Molly and Zack back by the door to Hotch's office with their arms full of sweets and wild grins on their faces.

"So what movie we are watching?" Zack asked eagerly.

"Looney Tunes?" Reid offered. "I was preparing a documentary for the seminar and they are part of the material."

"A seminar on Looney Tunes?" Molly asked skeptically.

"Have you ever analyzed the behavior of the cartoons?" Reid smiled. "It's a very interesting study."

"Cartoons are supposed to be funny," Zack said simply. "Daffy Duck is funny."

"Why?" Reid smirked. "Why Daffy is funny?"

"Because he fails constantly," Zack said simply.

"Exactly," Reid agreed. "That's the merit of the cartoons they are funny and at the same time they are educational… Well not all, but most of them are."

"How so?" Molly asked curiously. "What Daffy Duck is supposed to teach us?"

"Or Yosemite Sam?" Zack piped up.

"Recognizing the behavior and through repetition teaching us what kind of behavior is unacceptable and leads to string of personal failures. How about I show you instead of talking about it?" Reid offered.

Apparently his input was interesting enough to have both kids fixated on watching the string of Looney Tunes movies he had saved on his computer and quite loudly commenting on various behaviors and more often than not succeeding in recognizing the right (or rather wrong) kind of behavior while they happily munched through the pile of snacks.

In the meantime an hour had passed and there was still no sign of Hotch.

He put on another playlist for Molly and Zack to watch and had ventured to Hotch's office to check upon the other two who were still sleeping and he frowned.

Seventy minutes past standard two hours was more than enough for a budget meeting to properly end and now it was the highest time for Hotch to come back or at the very last for him to call Hotch on the cell phone.

"Hotchner," came stressed out answer.

"Reid here, I don't want to complain or anything but is there a chance that you would come back to the office?" Reid asked quietly. "The meeting was supposed to end more than a hour ago."

"You weren't interested in budget meetings before," Hotch sighed. "Listen Reid now is not the best time…"

"Just tell me when you will pick them up, Hotch," Reid interrupted him.

"Pick who?" Hotch asked, he sounded completely surprised.

Reid sighed and mentally counted to ten and then for a good measure backwards before he calmly said, "Jack and his cousins, Hotch."

"Jess has them for the weekend… I've got to…"

"Hotch!" Reid hissed. "Jessica went to see her father."

"She? What?" Hotch muttered. "She went to Georgia?"

"She said that she is going to see her father," Reid repeated. "All four is with me in BAU waiting for you to come."

"I'm in New York," Hotch admitted. "They called me out from the meeting. Sean had an accident and his condition is critical…"

"Never mind," Reid interrupted him. "Stay with Sean, just please tell me that someone in DC has a copy of your apartment's key or Jess's house."

"Rossi has the copy of my apartment's key and I have the key to Jess's house," Hotch sighed. "Reid, I'm sorry that it came to that…"

"Worry about Sean and let Jess worry about her father, I'm not prying but from the vibes I picked up I can tell that she is anxious enough and I can honestly take care of them for one day before you will arrange an alternative," Reid said calmly even if he initially didn't feel as confident as he sounded.

Watching over them for an hour or two was something he could calmly pull off, watching them over for the whole day was entirely different thing.

"I'll arrange a flight for the early morning," Hotch sighed.

"Concentrate on Sean," Reid stressed. "I have a spare bedroom and a very comfortable couch and enough food to survive until tomorrow afternoon."

"Reid…" Hotch sighed.

"They will be fine, I'll be fine, you and Jess have nothing to worry about," Reid interrupted him. "And apparently I have a story to finish because Jack and Rory fell asleep after few minutes of it. We are going to be fine, don't worry."

The thought that had crossed his mind in that moment was:

_Famous last words._

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><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>


	2. Chapter 2: Five Little Ducks

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

It's my second fic and obviously English is not my first language as You will probably quickly spot it. However I hope that I'd given the characters the justice they deserve.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter two: Five Little Ducks.<strong>

There was a time when he was used to being completely terrified by two things: dogs and small children, and actually the smaller they both were the more they terrified him.

Sure enough he felt uneasy around big breeds but one particularly nasty incident with a dachshund that happened shortly after his seventeenth birthday had left him mortally scared of any dog that happened to be no higher than any decent cat.

On the other hand cats he could stand, more so, he admired their individuality and inner pride. They fascinated him and he respected them which in return made the cats adore him because he wasn't needy, he wasn't cuddly and he let them be.

With cats it was reverse psychology; the less attentive the human was, the more of personal goal for the cat it became to have the human block of ice turned into comfortable living, breathing pillow which the cat could purr into sleep.

He didn't have a cat on his own ever but ever since he moved to DC and happened to be home he had three attentive, constantly hungry, purring maniacs following him everywhere and if he didn't let them inside the house for the night he was subjected to Three Tenors concerto of the pitiful mewls under the window of his bedroom.

So yes, he was an inner cat person and dogs sure as hell could feel it and reacted accordingly.

His fear of small children was far more rational and was born out of being the only child with no cousins or small children to baby-sit. How one could handle such a small bundle without paralyzing fear that they would do something wrong and break it.

But being a godfather had changed that because he always had time to spend with Henry, at the very least he was able to devote an hour per week if he wasn't on a case to spend with Henry.

He was also able to handle little kids during the cases if he had to even if nine times out of ten the rest of the team, keeping in mind so called Reid's effect, had him pushed to the sidelines which he didn't mind either.

However he started minding when it was about Henry and he always knew what to do to draw Henry's attention to _Uncle_ Penny, a very bad pun considering _Aunt_ Penny but for Henry's sake he could live with this kind of teasing.

Having Jack around at times, on rare occasions to count actually, but they still happened, was entertaining itself if Jack managed to weasel himself from the clutches of other aunts and uncles whatever it was thanks to a magic trick or calmly building a tower from the blocks or pulling a coloring book from the drawer and placing the markers with Jack's reach.

He was the patient, quiet one and when kids begun to yearn the calmness they always came to him.

Which lead back to the point that made him feel uneasy. Jack alone he could manage and even keep an eye on him for the whole weekend if required because he knew Jack and Jack knew him. It was the other three who worried him.

Right now the particular problem was how to move the whole bunch from Quantico back to DC without crying, complaining and repeated questions when dad or uncle Aaron will come to pick them up.

Rory most probably would be the most fussy one because Jack was used enough to having Hotch suddenly drop him in the middle of the night at Jess's place and he trusted Reid enough to know that no harm would come to him on Reid's watch.

The other problem was that there was no way to squeeze the whole four into his old Volvo without worrying that the old automobile would stop suddenly in the middle of nowhere.

He scratched his beard as he sighed. Technically Morganstern from Transportation Unit did owe him a favor or two and Morganstern could hand over the keys to one of the FBI's issued SUVs.

He dialed Morganstern's personal cell-phone and waited patiently through two rings.

"Morganstern," came a slightly bored voice.

"Reid here," Reid muttered. "Morganstern you know that I never before asked for a favour…"

"Name it," Morganstern said, suddenly he sounded happier. "What it would be Doctor Reid? Porsche? BMW? Undercover?"

"SUV," Reid interrupted him. "For the weekend, or at least until tomorrow afternoon. And one with empty rear and additional passenger area."

"So what you are smuggling out of BAU Doctor Reid?" Morganstern asked cheerfully.

"You will see for yourself when I will come to pick the keys," Reid sighed. "Can you meet me on the parking lot?"

"Sure, doc," he could practically hear Morganstern grinning. "One SUV pronto. Any particular color?"

"Do you have purple one?" Reid deadpanned.

"Lime green undercover," Morganstern chuckled.

"Thank you, I'd rather stick to plain old black," Reid sighed. "See you down in ten."

He barely managed to put the receiver down when he heard.

"Where is uncle Aaron?" Rory asked sleepily.

"He had to leave urgently because his brother had an accident but he will come to pick you all up tomorrow," Reid said calmly.

"Where we are going to stay?" Jack asked sleepily.

"With me," Reid answered. "We are going to have a movie night with lots of popcorn and chocolate."

"Sleepover party!" Jack said happily.

"Yeah, it will be like sleepover party," Reid nodded. "I just need to pick up few things from my desk and we are going to leave guys. Can you wait here for a moment?"

Jack nodded eagerly but Rory didn't appear convinced.

"I'll be back in a second, really," Reid said calmly. "You can see me through the door."

He quickly walked to his desk and examined the pile of cases which he was supposed to hand over on Monday. Ten was quite big case load for the weekend but they were nothing overly time consuming and he quickly stashed them in his messenger bag.

"Uncle Aaron is coming?" Molly asked curiously.

"He will pick you up tomorrow from my place, he had to go to New York to see his brother because he had an accident but he will be back tomorrow," Reid explained. "Do you want to have a movie night?"

"Sure!" Zack squealed eagerly. "I pick."

"No you don't," Molly groaned.

"How about each of you would pick up a movie, okay?" Reid offered. "But we really need to get going if we want to get to open video-store."

He added that as he slung his messenger bag over his shoulders and checked if he packed everything.

Phones – check. Laptop – check. Files – check. Wallet – check. Credentials – check. Amen.

To the pile Zack eagerly added remaining sweets and snacks while Reid was closing his computer. Then he instructed Molly and Zack to put on their jackets and to wait for him by the ramp while he went to pick up Jack and Rory.

Jack was wide awake when Reid reached Hotch's office and was waiting for him eagerly but Rory was still bleary-eyed and very sleepy which point blank excluded having her walk to the parking area which meant that he had to carry her.

"Hey princess," he smiled at her. "Up you go," he added as he picked her up and moved her to his left side as he extended his right hand to Jack.

"What we are going to watch, Uncle Spencer?" Jack asked eagerly.

"Whatever you like," Reid answered. "We just need to pick up the car first and we will be ready to go."

The elevator ride to the parking lot was a quick one and didn't prove to be a challenge. What actually was a challenge to Reid was stopping himself from decking snickering Morganstern across the head as he handed over the keys to Chevrolet Suburban.

"It's not funny," Reid managed to his through gritted teeth. "Could you at least point me which one of them it is?" he glared.

"Second row, third one on the left just the way you are standing now," Morganstern snickered. "Have fun Doctor Reid."

"You too, Morganstern," Reid muttered. "All right guys, let's go. Just don't run and keep close to me."

At the very least the Suburban was parked properly so he could see the road on both sides rather than having to pray that no other car would drive into his rear. But that was only a part of the accomplishment because while getting to the car was no challenge getting inside however was a challenge.

FBI issued SUVs didn't come equipped with car seats for three kids. Molly as the oldest and twelve years old was high enough to get into shotgun seat where he had left her with his messenger bag.

Zack wanted to sit at the front and definitely wouldn't sit behind the driver's seat. Rory under no circumstances didn't want to see behind the driver and when put together with Jack who calmly took the seat behind the driver they started swatting each other.

Finally after ten minutes of chorused "NO!" he managed to wrestle Rory together with Molly to the rear seats after instructing Molly to keeping an eye on Rory if she didn't wrestle herself from the seat-belt – and boy just making sure that she was buckled properly was pure horror.

Jack happily settled himself behind driver's seat and even buckled himself in the same way Spencer buckled Rory. Zack was more skeptical about it but reminding him three times that without a proper car seat having a child at the front seat was against the law and that he didn't want to break the law.

But finally they all settled down and were sitting calmly in their seats.

The peace however lasted to the checkpoint and that itself was a huge accomplishment because as soon as he managed to pull on I-95 his cell-phone rang.

He picked it up on the third ring and sighed, "Reid."

"Hi, Spence," said calm voice which he recognized as JJ. "Listen, I know that usually I don't do it and I wouldn't have asked…"

"Henry?" Reid said calmly. "I presume that you want me to baby-sit him, right?"

"I would have taken him but Will and I are flying to Memphis to visit Will's aunt… She is in very bad state and I don't want to subject Henry to seeing her like that. It's a matter of few hours, two days top because she is lingering and…"

"I'll be fine," Reid interrupted her. "More so, Henry will be fine and you have nothing to worry about and it's not the first sleepover he had at my place. Just tell me when I should pick him up and I'll be there."

"Our plane leaves in two hours from Ronald Reagan," JJ said quickly. "I've already prepared a bag for him, you have everything in there. He already had a desert so he shouldn't be overly fussy until the evening."

"I'll meet you at the parking lot at the airport then, just pick up his car seat too," Reid told her. "And don't worry, he is going to be fine."

He barely managed to hung up and to let out a heavy sigh when he heard chorused:

_Baa, baa, black sheep,  
>Have you any wool?<br>Yes, sir, yes, sir,  
>Three bags full;<br>One for my master,  
>And one for my dame,<br>and one for the little boy  
>Who lives down the lane.<em>

_Baa, baa, black sheep,  
>Have you any wool?<br>Yes, sir, yes, sir,  
>Three bags full;<br>One for my master,  
>And one for my dame,<br>and one for the little boy  
>Who lives down the lane.<em>

He sighed again, at the very least singing nursery rhymes was an activity which didn't involve physical force so the merry bunch was safely seated in their seats singing off key.

_Bah, Bah, Black Sheep_ – three times in a row quickly followed by two repetitions of _Five Little Speckled Frogs_, five of _Hey Diddle Diddle_, three times in a row full version of _Old McDonald_, followed by_ Five Little Ducks_ and_ Six Little Ducks_, each sung twice.

When he finally reached Ronald Reagan's National Airport he barely resisted the urge to bolt out of the car right away but quickly he surprised it and turned around.

"That's not a video-store," Zack puffed.

"I know," Reid smiled. "We will go to video-store in a moment but first we need to pick up my godson who is going to stay with us too, okay."

"Why we are picking him?" Zack asked sceptically.

"Because his mommy and daddy have to go away for the weekend and they have no one else to leave him with," Reid explained patiently before he turned to Jack and said, "Jack. You remember Henry, right?" Jack nodded eagerly. "Why don't you tell Zack, Rory and Molly how much time you had last time while I will quickly go to pick him up from his mom and dad?"

"Will you close the car?" Zack pouted.

"I have to," Reid said quickly. "But I will be back in few minutes. Seriously."

He stepped out of the car and swiftly locked it making sure that the bunch won't get out and wander under the wheels of a passing car before he looked around.

Predictably he spotted Will and JJ waiting two lanes away and he quickly sprinted in that direction.

"Hey JJ! Hey Will!" he greeted the quickly. "How is my favourite godson?" he beamed at Henry.

"Great! Uncle Penny!" Henry squalled as he happily ran to him and quickly hugged Reid's left leg.

"I'm sorry that we called so late, Spence," JJ said apologetically. "We wouldn't if Mrs Redmond who occasionally baby-sits him was in town for the weekend and Penelope…"

"Nevermind," Reid waved her off. "We are going to be fine and we are going to have great fun, right Henry?" he looked down and quickly picked Henry up.

"Right!" Henry squealed happily.

"See, even Henry agrees with me," Reid said quickly. "Just give me his bag and car seat."

"Are you sure?" Will asked sceptically. "It's quite heavy and complicated to install."

"Pshaw," Reid shrugged. "I have a PhD from Mechanical Engineering, I can fix the car blindfolded, with one hand bound behind my back. I can surely install one innocent car seat in the car and put one toddler in it. We are going to be fine, don't worry."

"You will be a good boy to Uncle Spence, right Henry?" JJ asked nervously. "You are going to listen to Uncle Spence like you listen to Mommy and Daddy."

Henry nodded eagerly and gave both Will and JJ a kiss and quick hug before they waved his parents off to the gates of the airport.

"Great," Reid sighed. "Now let's get back to the car."

Which was definitely easier said than done because with one arm filled with squirming Henry, the other occupied by Henry's quite big for a weekend stay, bag he was one hand short to properly carry Henry's car seat.

But he huffed, put the bag over his shoulder, secured his hold on Henry on his left hip, grabbed the car seat with his right hand and swiftly made his way to the car.

By which he saw an old lady with an angry expression on her face and her hands firmly placed on her hips.

'_Where is Zeus and his lightning-bolts when you need one?_' he groaned inwardly.

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><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>

_Obviously it's not the end of **let's torture Uncle Spencer session** and the day isn't over yet... actually it just started._


	3. Chapter 3: Two Out Of Three Is Still

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

It's my second fic and obviously English is not my first language as You will probably quickly spot it. However I hope that I'd given the characters the justice they deserve.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter three: Two Out Of Three Is Still An Accomplishment. <strong>

In the last few steps he needed to take to reach the car he considered the best course of action. He was after all experienced FBI agent with a decade of experience and negotiating with psychotic unsubs was his forte… well his and Hotch's actually and now he could really use some backup.

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, secured his hold on Henry and swiftly said, "Federal Bureau of Investigation, Supervisory Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid, how can I help you, Madam?"

"You can help me find this irresponsible bastard who left those poor little angels in this metallic prison," the woman huffed. "I don't understand how one can be this heartless."

'Right, I leave them for three minutes flat, secured in a car with a running AC and that's what I get, an angry mob,' he snorted inwardly.

"I don't understand that either madam," he said instead. "Why don't you let me call the police and let them do their job. I solemnly swear that this sad excuse of the society is going to be properly punished."

"I don't know…" the woman muttered.

"Madam, I'm a seasoned senior FBI agent with a decade of experience in the field and I assure you that I can handle the situation," he continued in the calmest voice he could master. "Let me handle the situation."

"Credentials," the woman said.

"Naturally," he smiled at her. "I wouldn't believe for a word either," he added as he put Henry's car seat down and fished out his credentials from his right pocket and showed it to the woman.

She frowned and pulled out something from her pocket as she said, "Call me when I'm supposed to give the statement to the police, please. I can't believe that monsters like that exist."

"Oh, they do and we deal with them, madam," he said swiftly. "I'll handle the situation, you have nothing to worry about," he added as he accepted her flyer and inwardly sighed.

"I will go now," the woman said slowly.

He smiled at her as he slowly fished out his cell phone from his pocket and in spur of a moment brilliancy dialled Hotch's office number knowing that no one would pick it.

"SSA Doctor Spencer Reid, FBI, I'm calling to report a case of child abandonment at Ronald Reagan's National Airport. Black SUV with four children inside, two boys and two girls…"

From the corner of his eye he spotted that the woman started walking away farther and farther.

"Sorry for the rouse," he said. "Well meaning angry mob. Just ignore the first part because it never happened. Tell you later."

The woman had reached the end of the lane and was entering another. When she was too far away to come back quickly he swiftly opened the car, threw Henry's bag to the front passenger seat, instructed Jack to scot to the middle seat and re-buckle himself there before he managed to install Henry's car seat in ninety seconds flat.

With Henry secured in his seat and properly buckled he sighed heavily and dove to the driver's seat.

Sure he managed to talk the lady out of his sight but it didn't mean that she wouldn't come back so his best option to survive the rest of the afternoon without lengthy explanations to the police was getting the fuck out of there as fast as possible.

"What this old lady wanted?" Zack asked curiously.

"Nothing, really," Reid sighed. "She was just being annoyingly helpful in a situation which didn't require help."

"Why?" Jack asked.

"You see," Reid started. "People aren't supposed to do what I did."

"Meaning leaving children in the car," Molly said simply.

"Yes," Reid confirmed. "Especially for _long_ periods of time," he quickly added. "But it wasn't a long period of time and it was easier for all of you to stay inside the car for few minutes while I picked Henry up."

"You left us running AC," Molly said simply. "And talking with the lady took you more time."

"Exactly," Reid agreed. "So now that we are all together we can all go to video-store to pick the movies and later to the shop to pick up ice-creams."

"Ice-creams!" came four voice happy squeal.

"Yeah, ice-creams, as many as you like, and chocolate, and chips, and… whatever you like guys," he agreed.

He managed to make it all the way to Rosslyn and was barely few minutes away from home where his cell-phone had chosen to ring again.

He managed to swallow a brewing insult, inwardly thanked whichever deity happened to be listening for the red light and picked up the call.

"Morgan," he heard at the other end. "Listen Reid… you know that I don't usually do it and especially when it involves…"

"Clooney," Reid sighed. "What can I do for you, Morgan? Feed him? Walk him?"

"He is staying with my neighbours for now… but their daughter in Boston just started giving birth to a baby…"

"Fine," Reid said quickly. "I'll pick him up. Which neighbour it is and when you will pick him up?"

"I should make it back by Sunday evening, if not by Monday morning and I will pick him up from your place. I'm sorry that…"

"Never mind," Reid interrupted him. "Which neighbour?"

"The Browns, second house on the right to my own," Morgan said quickly. "Thanks mate, you are the best."

"Have fun," Reid sighed as he swallowed an insult yet again and quickly hung up.

He turned into Custis Memorial Parkway silently seething inside.

Okay, Berkeley-Hotchner quartet he could watch over for one night, he could baby-sit Henry for the whole weekend and even dog-sit Clooney for the weekend because after seven years of knowing him Morgan's German Shepherd was used to his visits and completely tolerated the smell of cats on him. However all of this was fine and great when it happened separately.

'If Garcia will call me now to tell me that she needs someone to help Kevin with moving in his piano I'm _so_ going to implore the threats of bodily harm,' he sighed inwardly.

"Where we are going now, Uncle Spencer?" Jack asked curiously.

"To pick Uncle Morgan's dog," Reid sighed. "You remember Clooney, Jack?"

"Yeah," Jack nodded. "Clooney is funny, Uncle Spencer. Are you baby-sitting him too?"

"Yep," Reid agreed. "And I swear to God, this is the last side-trip for the evening, you have my word for that."

"What kind of a dog it is?" Zack asked curiously.

"German Shepherd," Reid answered.

"Black and brown, big one with funny tail and pointy ears," Jack offered.

The road to Centreville was spend in off key performance of _Johnny Came Home Headless_ (how _The Berkeley-Hotchner Howling Band_ knew that song Reid didn't know because he was more surprised that he actually remembered it himself but for the life of him he couldn't recall when and where he learned it) alternated with _Hey Diddle Diddle_ and _Bah Bah Black Sheep_.

He barely managed to pull the car into Morgan's driveway when he heard.

"I have to pee," coming from behind his back.

"Just a second," he sighed. "Can you wait here in the car for a moment? I will quickly…"

He was distracted by the knock on the window and he swiftly opened the door.

"Spencer Reid, right?" an old white haired man in about early sixties asked jovially.

"Yeah," Reid confirmed. "Mr Brown?"

"Sure, son," the man said. "I'm terribly sorry that taking care of Clooney was dropped on you…"

"I completely understand," Reid said quickly. "Is he with you?"

"With my wife in Agent Morgan's house, she is just bundling his staff together," the man said.

"Even better," Reid smiled quickly. "I have passengers in need of a bathroom trip anyway."

"I need too," Zack declared.

"Okay, everybody out of the car, bathroom break," Reid said as he opened the door and stepped outside.

He barely managed to extract Henry from his car seat and placed him on the ground so he could close the door when he heard rounding thump-thump of four paws on the driveway and barely a spare second to step away from the car when furry 80 lb slammed into him at full speed successfully tackling him to the ground.

Somehow he managed avoiding cuffing his head against the pavement which couldn't be said about his elbows which for sure will bear bruises for next few days and he silently thanked whichever deity was listening that Morgan owned German Shepherd and not a Great Dane because additional 40 lb would surely finish him off or at the very least would make his digested lunch consider return trip for a moment. Of course it would be much better for his elbows and dignity if Morgan owned Chihuahua but one couldn't have everything.

Clooney in joyfulness of a puppy, and for a dog eight years old it seemed like he had suffered from sudden case of dementia proceed to lick thoroughly Reid's face alternatively butting his head against Reid's.

Okay, so perhaps he didn't visit Morgan for over a month and Clooney was secret cat scent fetishist and just missed the scent of a cat clinging to Reid but having an Alsatian sitting on the top of yourself was definitely not a comfortable position so Reid took a deep breath looked Clooney in the eye and hissed.

"Clooney! Down boy!"

Clooney whined pitifully but obediently backed off from Reid which allowed him to sit up on the driveway just in time to see how cheerful Clooney decided to tackle Jack and proceed to give Jack the very same treatment just few seconds ago the dog subjected Reid to.

'Well at least he tackled Jack on the grass and not on the concrete,' Reid snorted mentally as he massaged his bruised elbows.

He whipped most of the dog's slob from his face with his left sleeve and firmly told himself that he wouldn't make a wild dash to the bathroom to scrub his face like a closet germophobe he was at heart. First and foremost bathroom trip belonged to Zack and whomever else had to go and besides knowing Clooney Reid would end slobbered at least once again before reaching home.

"Molly, why don't you take whomever wanted to go to the bathroom," Reid said finally. "I will make small re-arrangements in the car."

He eyed Clooney who abandoned Jack for a moment to thoroughly lick Henry who was giggling maniacally.

"And where is the bathroom, Doctor Reid?" Molly asked.

"Third door on the right," Reid answered as he turned to the car.

It took him five minutes to fix Henry's car seat properly and additional five to locate suspicious three car seats in Morgan's garage, and they were suspicious because Morgan was declared bachelor and declared bachelors didn't have children car seats in their garages. Then he spend next ten minutes at installing the infernal devices in the car and finally figured out proper sitting arrangements.

When he turned around to summon the kids and Clooney back to the car he stared at the sight in front of him in shock. Even Houdini wouldn't manage to escape from the prison of leash tangle the hellish quintet managed to bind themselves to Clooney.

The only supposedly good thing was that at the very least they figured out how to put Clooney on a leash and muzzle which was partially a success but he quickly made a mental note to do it next time on his own.

Henry and Rory ended bound together by the leash in a fashion more fitted for three-legged race rather than the game of _let's tackle the doggy_ but at the very least they were standing properly unlike Jack who was sprawled at the ground with his hands bound by the leash to Zack's left leg. The only one left standing without any problems was Molly who somehow managed to get herself caught in the tangle between the collar and muzzle.

It took him five minutes to untangle the merry bunch and have Clooney muzzled and collared properly.

Jack and Zack accepted being removed to the rear seats on the grounds of double chorused '_We get the doggy_!', which they did, but since Reid removed the leash he suspected that if Clooney will get too uncomfortable in the tight squeeze with two boys in the rear he would simply jump over the middle seats to settle between awed Rory and cooing Henry.

Just because Clooney ended in the rear with Jack and Zack wrestling first Henry and then Rory into proper buckling them into their car seats was a pure horror and soon whines _for the doggy_ became _whines for the doggy with the whining doggy_ and Sweet Holly, Aunt of Fanny Clooney **knew** how to whine pitifully.

After he had whole five firmly secured by the seatbelts with a heavy sigh he leaned against the door of the car and mentally counted to ten before counting from ten down to one and then for a good measure repeating both counts in Latin and after spare second of consideration also in Greek.

Technically the drive from Peach Leaf Place, Centreville to Winfield Ln NW, Georgetown took, according to Google thirty-six minutes, to Reid's own experience forty minutes and about an hour in traffic.

The side trip to video store took them all but five minutes because despite the number the kids quickly agreed on _Lion King_ and _Aladdin_ which for sure had to be some sort of a miracle.

It was Wisemiller's which almost finished Reid off and it wasn't the shopping itself because the merry bunch, minus Clooney who was patiently waiting in the car, quickly managed to locate their favourite snacks, ice creams, chips and cheese flavoured popcorn.

It was the company…

"I spend effing eight months in Kuwait, Frankie," came a disgusted snort from behind Reid's back. "I sacrificed my arm for this country and this is what I get."

Reid plainly ignored the remark after all the remark wasn't directed at him and he was more concerned in keeping Zack, Jack and Rory in his sight and Henry from squirming off his arms.

The veteran however kept going, "Having Eddie was more than enough and it was just a patriotic responsibility and remember, Frankie, I was working for the country unlike some lazy slobs which do nothing more than breed good for nothing brats who are eating away my already small retirement fund."

Pause.

"I tell you Frankie, one in, one out," the veteran bristled.

Reid completely ignored the remark and tried to will the old lady in front of him to hand over the money for her purchases faster.

**THUMP!**

Rubber end of the cane had painfully connected with his left tight so forcefully that he had to grab the counter and clamp his teeth over his bottom lip to stop himself from cursing.

"Are you deaf, sonny?" the veteran bristled.

"As a matter of fact, no," came a calm and controlled remark in familiar voice of his next door neighbour and he smiled inwardly. "My husband was simply ignoring the remarks of a discharged for disrespect lazy slob who thinks himself a hero but now that you hit him he can arrest you for a physical assault on a federal agent. Excuse me, madam."

A carton of milk, loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese had landed next to Reid's pile of sweets and snacks.

"Federal agent? That slob? Federal agent my ass!" the veteran huffed.

"My dearest," Reid said calmly as he looked at his neighbour calmly. "Let me handle this."

He shoved the right side of his jacket aside displaying a gun and pulled the credentials from his pocket.

"Whack me again, sir and I will be pressing charges," Reid growled.

"Looks to me like a psychotic break," his neighbour said sweetly. "I think that calling a wagon from Georgetown would be completely justified, along with seventy-two hours psych watch."

"Psych watch?" Frankie, the about fifty years old lady gasped out.

"Oh yes, psych watch, assaulting a federal agent, spouting racist remarks in the company of a psychiatrist," Reid's neighbour said matter of factly. "Did you know that it's easier to get out of prison than from psychiatric hospital? Funny job, psychiatrist, isn't it?"

The man himself, sunburnt slightly bald at the top of his head a man of fifty-seven at the most, had huffed.

"And for the record your retirement fund wouldn't be this small if you didn't keep gambling and hiding it from your wife," Reid added with a smile. "Don't blame the country, blame yourself."

"Or find the actual lazy slob who breeds brats," Reid's neighbour added sweetly. "We are simply raising the future of the nation."

_The future of the nation_ had a decency to stifle their giggles and admirably decided to play along because Rory stretched out her arms to the woman and allowed herself to be picked up and placed on right hip while Jack grabbed her other hand and delivered an angelic smile at the veteran.

Zack and Molly by the door simply beamed.

He ended paying for the additional items but he couldn't wipe the grin from his face as he limped slightly towards the car.

"Did you walk or drove the car?" he asked swiftly.

"Walked," his neighbour said simply. "Why are you asking?"

"Delivering one last blow, hop in, it will be far more convincing," he shot back.

"Please!" answered chorused quartet.

"You are quite an impish bunch of pranksters, aren't you?" the smirk that accompanied it was good natured.

"Yep," all six confirmed in unison, even Clooney barked to agree.

The merry bunch scrambled to their seats. Jack and Zack had a decency to buckle themselves and Rory and Henry didn't protest much about being buckled by Reid and his neighbour while Molly wedged herself between the two car seats leaving the front for the adults.

"What's your name?" Molly asked curiously. "Are you real psychiatrist?"

"Kate Cameron and yes," Reid's neighbour said.

"Where do you work?" Molly pressed.

"Georgetown University Hospital," Cameron answered calmly.

"Do you always pose for other men's wife?" Molly grinned.

"Only when I know them personally and lying angry gamblers are involved," Cameron said simply. "And don't complain because you looked like you needed rescuing."

"He said that he lost his arm," Zack stated.

"He didn't," Cameron shook her head. "I can recognize even a very good prosthetic and from farther distance than, oh irony, the arm length."

Molly giggled, Zack and Jack snickered.

"That doesn't mean that we have to be disrespectful to the elders," Reid interjected. "Just that we can politely tell them off when they are verbally attacking us."

"That whack wasn't verbal," Cameron interjected. "And it hit you in the bad leg."

"What happened with your leg, Doctor Reid?" Molly asked.

"I tripped," Reid said simply.

"Dad said that you were shot," Jack announced.

Damn Hotch and damn Jack's memory of getting that one answer.

"Did you fought with the bad guy?" Zack asked curiously. "How it ended?"

Lying now wasn't an option so Reid sighed simply, "I shoot him back."

"Did he die?" Molly asked.

"No, he made it," Reid shook his head. "And I only shot him because he refused to drop his gun when I asked him for that, repeatedly."

"Why?" Zack asked. "Why did you ask instead of shooting him right away?"

"That's not how it works, Zack," Reid answered. "With guns comes responsibility of carrying them because the gun is not a toy. If you ask any policeman or agent about shooting they will tell you the same. The gun is there so you can protect yourself and the others from other armed in guns people who have the intention, who want, to shoot you or the others. And even then you have to remember to shoot to harm rather than kill."

"Why?" Zack asked. "If someone wants to kill you then why you cannot kill them first?"

"Because you are a cop and not a criminal," Cameron interjected. "You are a good guy and not a bad guy," she clarified quickly. "Sure killing criminal might be justified but killing is still bad and even cops avoid it if they can."

"Did you kill anyone?" Zack asked curiously.

"No," was spoken quickly and in unison.

Sure that's not what happened but it wasn't as if Zack would ever have access to case files of Philip Dowd or Tobias Hankel, ever, so it was better to lie rather than to tell the truth.

Once they bid Cameron goodbye and she headed to her home another challenge had arose…

Knowing _not really his_ lazy, mewling trio, and he knew them for a very long time Luciano, Placido and Jose were for sure sprawled all across the living-room unaware of the closeness of secret cat fetishist and because the living-room didn't have the door and Clooney, being Clooney, and a fetishist unable to resist the urge to check out the alluring scent of three cats, would tear into the living-room immediately which would only end in a disaster.

The problem was that the stairs leading up to the front door were rather tricky and needed a _rendezvous_ with concrete and few missing bricks for a longer while (something which he had been continuously saving off for his supposedly free weekend) which meant that putting Henry down to stand was surely out of bounds which complicated opening the doors quite a bit because you had to grab the knob, bring the door closer to open the lock halfway then whack it back into former position to open it fully.

His locking and opening system had raised more than several eyebrows but only one person, Cameron, had commented on changing his doors for new ones.

"I like my doors," he told her then. "They have charisma."

"They are falling apart," Cameron deadpanned.

Falling apart or not they were still working even if they needed a whack or two.

He barely managed to open the door when Clooney dashed between his feet and into his living-room which assured him that the cats were still inside, well actually it was Clooney's wild dash into the house quickly followed by three terrified mewls and the thump of the kitchen door (_Clooney_).

Before he even reached his alarm Clooney tore after the three cats up the stairs but not before slamming into a chair in the dining area so hard that the vase with still alive white roses had toppled over, rolled across the table and slammed to the floor shattering into tiny pieces.

By the time he disarmed the alarm hissing upstairs was accompanied by Clooney's pained whine and less than brave return of the prodigal dog downstairs to hide behind Molly.

_Fetishist: 0. Three Tenors: 1._

"Under the stairs there are doors to the bathroom," he told the kids. "Go wash your hands and in the meantime I will clean up _the tornado named Clooney alley_," he sighed before he closed the door and glared at Clooney as he growled, "Sit. Down."

While the kids were in the bathroom he surveyed the damage, aside of the vase the only casualty was the pumpkin which fell off the counter after receiving a blow from the kitchen door but at the very last the pumpkin was in far better condition than the vase so he examined the crack on the pumpkin, picked up the broomstick and cleaned up the mess in the dining area.

'At least I know what they would be eating for breakfast,' Reid snorted mentally.

The rest was fairly easy. Turning on the TV (LCD, thanks to Morgan, Kevin and Garcia as well as the soccer ball and his own _I swear that this is the last time I'm watching World Cup of anything with you at my place, guys_), DVD player and having the five kids seated on the couch and armchair while he started the movie and wandered to the kitchen to place the snacks and prepare the ice-cream.

If he had hopes that leaving the kids in front of _modern era baby-sitter_ with a pile of popcorn, various kinds of chocolate and toffee along with five bowls of ice-cream would allow him to finish working in the dining area at least on the small portion of his weekend case-load he was sorely mistaken because **none** could be possibly immune to chorused "_Please watch Lion King with us, Uncle Spencer_!" delivered along with five sets of sad puppy eyes in various shades of brown and quivering bottom lips.

Which meant that he ended swamped under Rory, who wedged her head under his right shoulder, delivered more than one excited kick to his right kneecap; Henry who burrowed himself in his lap and for a good measure placed a pillow between himself and the TV so only his head was sticking out from behind it; Jack ended on Reid's left and unlike Rory had a decency to not kick but wrapped Reid's left arm around his shoulders and managed to wedge his right hand between the back of the couch and Reid's back, why, Reid didn't know…

…until the scene of the chase in the canyon had arrived and Jack pressed himself tighter to Reid's side, his right hand squeezed tightly the material of Reid's shirt while Jack placed Reid's left hand over his own eyes with his left but he slowly peered Reid's fingers open just enough to watch the TV.

But it wasn't until the hyenas had chased little Simba away when Reid realized what truly terrified Jack.

That Jack knew exactly when and where to put the barrier between himself and the screen meant that Jack watched the movie at the very least once and Jack's reaction had spoken volumes of Jack's deep, primal fear.

Losing his mother at the age of four to a narcissist like Foyet, a narcissist that wanted to kill him too and knowing of, for sure **hearing** the fight between Hotch and Foyet… Of the fact that Jack heard Hotch and Foyet he was sure because he had been at Hotch's house before and he knew that in the study one could hear every sound inside the house.

Jack probably still had nightmares of that day, was most probably still terrified of overly loud noises, gunshots, possibly even wet the bed at night.

But the most of everything Jack was terrified of losing his dad.

Reid had never considered Aaron Hotchner as an adrenaline driven idiot. No, always like a good role model and because Hotch was his probationary agent and for years mentor and confidant, additionally for fucks sake his medical proxy and attorney the thought that Hotch was an idiot **had never** entered his mind before.

That was the first.

Shooting with the murderous beheading deputy sheriff in Texas – Hotch with the psychopath, _Reid mind the evidence because it's going to run away_.

Grief stricken, burnt man in Boston about to blow up his ex-girlfriend and son. Hotch of course negotiating inside the house.

Psychopath and sociopath on the run… likewise, _Reid mind the station_.

Grief stricken mother with a gun on psychotic break… Who walked the fine line of possibly getting his head blown off? Again Hotch.

Chase in Los Angeles where unsub got squashed by the cistern… _guess who made sure that the station won't run away_…

Hotch apparently didn't get the memo that he was a single father now and if he did, he might not have entertained the thought that if he died Jack's innocence would be squashed for good.

If Reid draped his arm around Jack's shoulders a little more tighter as he made a mental note to have Hotch handcuffed to the couch while watching Lion King with Jack and him at the earliest possibility that would present itself.

Hotch wasn't that much of an idiot to not draw a conclusion on his own, he just needed swift kick in the gonads from time to time and with going to New York to stay at the hospital with Sean until his condition would stabilize he ensured that Reid will be always there to remind him how much his son was terrified of losing him.

And for that one didn't need an eidetic memory, merely _common sense_.

"I wish that daddy loved us like Mustafa loved Simba," Rory mumbled.

"Don't do it," Zack from Rory's right muttered. "He made a choice and he wasn't around since."

"Dad left us," Molly clarified with a small huff. "Twenty-two, long red hair, long legs, ninety, sixty, ninety… and a brain of a hen… Pardon, brain of a hen _plus_ that brain cell that makes sure that she doesn't poop around herself."

"Did he try to contact you?" Reid asked calmly.

"He send us a postcard from Florida to not contact him," Molly snorted. "I've checked, changed number of his cell-phone, restricted address on the credit cards… alimony nonexistent."

Reid grind his teeth. He knew that kind too well for his liking and subconsciously tightened his arm around Rory's shoulders.

He never knew much about Jessica Berkeley other than she was Haley's older sister and apparently the only supportive one from the Brooks side of the family when Hotch and Haley divorced since all emails with Jack's adventures either on mpgs or pictures came from the email of . Obviously considering the number of kids and their actual age Jess for a very long time was a housewife and at the most worked only a part-time job.

If it wasn't about her father Jess most probably wouldn't leave the kids and it was bad enough that Haley's funeral was shortly followed by the death of Mrs Brooks and Reid knew that only because he was the one who had to inform Garcia that Hotch delayed his return to work for few days to help Jess with the funeral so she could push it through the system.

Thankfully _Aladdin_ proved to be less complicated storyline, at the very least less loaded with underlying messages so he managed to extract himself from the clutches of the kids for just long enough to change the linens in his bedroom so he could put the boys and Rory in his bed for the night and to arrange the futon in his study so Molly, as the oldest and growing girl could have some privacy.

_Aladdin_ was also what put Henry and Rory to sleep point blank and by the time credits rolled around Zack and Jack were yawning heavily despite their protests that they weren't sleepy at all.

Reid for his part knew better, with all the sugar they consumed at past ten o'clock the merry bunch would sleep until seven in the morning at the very least due to sugar crash alone.

When Molly headed to the bathroom after the other four were secured upstairs and snoring in Reid's bed, Reid was finishing making a makeshift bed on the couch.

Perhaps it was hyper vigilance that came with the knowledge that he had five children that weren't his own in his care, perhaps it was the experience of a federal agents who dealt with the sickest minds on daily basis. Perhaps…

Nevertheless he had heard Molly's stifled gasp and soft sob.

He was by the door of the bathroom, with his gun in hand before he remembered that there was no way that an unsub would waltz into the bathroom for several reasons: mewling trio was hyper vigilant and overly protective of their domain, Clooney would react to an intruder and the most important, the bathroom had **no** windows so no one could get inside through it.

It was that what actually stopped him from barging into the bathroom and instead he placed the gun on the side table by the stairs next to the telephone before he knocked on the door.

"Molly? All you all right?" he asked through the door.

"I'm…" Molly whispered. "I don't think so… I'm… I'm bleeding."

Bleeding? Had she injured herself in the bathroom? If that was the case then how? Sure once he managed to slip in the shower and cuffed his arm against the sink but that left a bruise.

"Did you injure yourself?" he asked cautiously.

"I don't know," Molly whimpered.

'She is twelve years old prepubescent schoolgirl,' rational part of his brain supplied. 'Do the math, _genius_.'

_Fuck_ was the only word that came to his mind to sum up the situation. _Fuck_, from all days in month the puberty just had to hit right now when Molly had no spare clothes with her, her mother was away and necessary hygienic items just _**weren't**_ around.

* * *

><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>

_First off, I want to state that I have absolutely no issues with veterans, in fact I value the people who fight for their country, I don't have issues with old well meaning ladies either, I also realize that what Reid did (meaning leaving the kids in the car) is bad and should be avoided at all cost especially during the summer._

_But let's be frank half of the stuff I wrote is not meant to be taken seriously **because it's let's torture Reid game** and he just made it through the third round, and there would be fourth and fifth and probably sixth, maybe even seventh because my inner Reid!sadist is not satisfied with such small tortures to which I already subjected him._

_Side note on Cameron. Yes, I'm lazy and I'm not in mood for coming with the names of various OCs and I needed a doctor (of the actual medicine not Mr Second Opinion, MD), a psychiatrist so eventual ground of Reid's psychotic break is covered and obviously a female (for **now** obvious reason). For sure Cameron will reappear in next chapter - interpret it as You want - because there will be blood in it._


	4. Chapter 4: Two Doctors and a Schoolgirl

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

It's my second fic and obviously English is not my first language as You will probably quickly spot it. However I hope that I'd given the characters the justice they deserve.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

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><p><em><strong>Chapter four: Two Doctors and a Schoolgirl.<strong>_

_Fuck was the only word that came to his mind to sum up the situation. Fuck, from all days in month the puberty just had to hit right now when Molly had no spare clothes with her, her mother was away and necessary hygienic items just __**weren't**__ around._

Or perhaps they were. Making a dash to the nearest drugstore was out of questions but all he needed now was someone with a set of ovaries, and yes, thank you very much, it was a sexist thought but he was an inch away from having a panic attack.

Who happened to be the woman in close vicinity?

"Don't worry, Molly," he said as calmly as he could. "I'll be right back, I swear."

How he didn't manage to lose his teeth or break something as he dashed down his rickety stairs he didn't know, it was quite an accomplishment considering how panicked he felt right now. However the other way around, up the stairs to Cameron's house, wasn't that successful and he tripped twice on ten stairs he had to get through to make it to the door.

He knocked on the door forcefully and for a good measure rang the doorbell, hard.

It seemed that years had passed before Cameron dressed in stretched out and washed off Georgetown grey t-shirt opened the door, her long hair were dripping with water and she looked at him quizzically.

"You have ovaries," he blurted out.

"You have testicles," she said simply as she crossed her arms. "Is this _let's quote Grey's Anatomy_ at each other or does that statement has an actual purpose?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes," he said quickly. "You have ovaries therefore you are a woman if you are a woman and have ovaries therefore you have menstruation cycle and if you have menstruation cycle, ovaries and you are a woman therefore you have pads, or tampons, though pads would be more welcomed."

"Did you just suddenly switched the gender or is it the oldest?" Cameron asked patiently.

"Molly, yes, thank you, I think it is and she is terrified therefore it has to be the first and they are only staying with me for the night because of an unfortunate coincidence which put her mother in Georgia and uncle who was supposed to watch over them in New York and I'm without the keys and I took them how they were standing because I'm a scientist not a psych… I cannot foresee a disaster just predict a behavior… and this…"

"Take a deep breath, and stop panicking," Cameron said calmly. "Go back to your house, prepare the heating pad because if it is what we assume it is heating pad on her lower back will make her more comfortable. I'll be right back with what she needs, just get me a fresh towel for her… and make chamomile tea and for fucks sake stop freaking out."

"How I am supposed to not freak out?" Reid groaned. "Cameron, this isn't me, I don't have kids, I can baby-sit, I don't do THE talk."

"You do THE talk, sexual crimes are your forte, aren't they?" Cameron asked simply.

"Because no one else wants them and someone has to be an expert," Reid protested.

"I'm not having this conversation now," Cameron snorted. "Go. Home. Heating pad. Tea. Towel. Now."

"Yes, madam," Reid sighed and turned on his heel.

Knowing that the situation as scary for him as it was, was under the control of a woman, at the very least _was supposed to be_ under the control of a woman, helped him to calm down enough to heat the heating pad, leave a fresh towel at the table in the hall and make a pot of chamomile tea.

At some point the front door were opened and he recognized the clapping sound as Cameron's footsteps (in her favorite flip-flops). The door to the bathroom had been opened and closed several times and finally Cameron walked into the kitchen, leading in front of her wet-haired and slightly embarrassed Molly dressed in oversized orange t-shirt and pajama shorts (both Cameron's).

Cameron steered Molly to the bar stool by the island and sat down next to her at the same time maintaining the air of calmness and confidence (which was exactly the opposite to how Reid felt at the moment).

It was then when it occurred to him that psychiatrist or not Cameron _did_ have sadistic tendencies (at least in his severely private, completely biased, fully unprofessional opinion) and from experience he knew that he wasn't going to get away easily, last time he didn't and the time before last he didn't get away easily too.

"Do you want a cup of tea, Molly?" Cameron asked calmly.

Oh, there it was, the psychiatrist tone, overwhelming calmness and complete control over the situation.

Molly nodded slowly.

The pot of tea was already at the island and Cameron poured Molly a cup before she poured one for herself.

"Is this normal?" Molly blurted out suddenly and predictably unable to stand the calmness.

_Focus idiot, freaked out part goes for a long walk, you are seasoned federal agent, you negotiate with psychotic unsubs, you lead discussions concerning sexual sadists and sex oriented crimes, you can surely survive one talk about the facts of life and you can be comforting._

"Completely," he said, calmly, seasoned negotiator turned on and freaked out part of his psyche drowned under the pile of negotiating techniques. "It happens to all girls at some point, Molly. The only difference is that for some girls it happens later, for some it happens sooner, it's a matter of biology, heredity and other various aspects, stress for the most part too and I'm sure that with everything going with your father you were really stressed out."

"Also considering the circumstances it's no wonder that it happened today," Cameron interjected. "Sure it's uncomfortable and I'm sure that you would feel much better if your mum was here instead of me and Reid."

"But you know what's going on," Molly said softly.

"Of course," Cameron confirmed. "I had been in the same position, Molly and trust me, it was horribly embarrassing experience in horribly embarrassing circumstances, and I was slightly younger than you and my sister didn't really help me… at the very least my school covered that part of biology lessons a lot sooner so after initial freak out I knew what I should do."

"No primary or middle school covers reproduction at the age of eleven," Reid muttered.

"High school does," Cameron sent him a murderous glare. "Don't…" she pointed a finger at him.

"You were in high school at the age of eleven?" Molly, just like Reid was interested in the change of topics and latched on the first possibility that presented itself. "At eleven you should be in fifth grade."

"Yeah," Reid nodded eagerly.

"I skipped a year," Cameron said simply.

"A year? To high school?" Molly asked skeptically. "In which class you were at the age of eleven?" she pressed.

"Twelfth," Cameron coughed and reached for her tea.

"And you skipped a year?" Molly stared at her.

"A year here, a year there," Cameron muttered into her tea. "I was finishing first year of medicine when I was your age."

"Cool," Molly grinned.

"Pretty impressive," Reid interjected. "How old you actually are?"

"You don't know?" Molly in turn stared at him. "She is your neighbor."

"She is my neighbor but by the time I moved here four years ago she already hit a grow spurt and with her already being a doctor at GUH…" Reid hung his voice.

"You are supposed to be a doctor of mathematics, do the math," Cameron snorted. "I was starting residency back then."

"You could have skipped a year or two too," Reid stuck his tongue at her.

"I'm a doctor, not a grasshopper," Cameron deadpanned. "And you are getting away from the subject at hand."

"Well, I'm not in medschool, and my school doesn't cover reproduction but I had the birds and bees talk with mum last year," Molly grinned. "I was… surprised that it happened so soon." She lowered her head before she grinned again and directed an angelic smile at Cameron as she asked, "So how old are you?"

"Nineteen," Cameron sighed. "Can we not talk about me?"

"Any cool boys at medicine?" Molly snickered.

"I was still protected by anti-pedophile laws when I was graduating from medschool," Cameron grimaced. "And the only boy I had on my mind was my nephew who at that time was eight… he is actually your age."

"Cool," Molly said. "Which school he is going to?" she asked curiously.

"You have a nephew?" Reid asked skeptically. "I never saw him and I've been living here for a while."

"You saw him," Cameron shook her head. "That time last year when you got slammed with the newspaper in the forehead and told me that girls rarely make newspapers delivery and ride a skateboard. That was my nephew trying to prove me that he can hold a job for more than a month."

Reid paused and tried to recall the incident, yep, that explained surprised look on Cameron's face when he made that comment.

"So?" Molly interjected. "Which school?"

"Recent graduate from Ellington," Cameron sighed.

"Duke Ellington High School of Arts?" Reid coughed because the comment had caught him while he wasn't fully done with swallowing his tea. "What? I live in the area," he added pointedly.

"He graduated from high school and he is twelve," Molly interjected. "Is this a family tradition?"

"No, it's a family trait," Cameron shook her head. "Some things are heritable like the time when one hits puberty… In my family it's the tendency to skip few years at school, every family has their own quirks, this is the Camerons quirk."

"Being a genius," Reid chuckled.

"People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones," Cameron said sweetly.

"You are preaching the choir, doctor," Reid snickered.

"At least I'm trying not to wriggle away from the responsibilities bestowed upon me, doctor," Cameron shot back. "And unlike some," she glared at him briefly, "I have to work tomorrow and I have to get up early, so if that's everything I have a rendezvous with Morpheus."

"What about the clothes?" Molly asked quickly.

"Keep them for now," Cameron smiled at her. "You need them and I have closet full of them…" then she turned to Reid and added, "If you would need anything for the boys and Rory I have Lian's old clothes, I was supposed to give them for charity but in so far I only managed to do the washing. You know where I keep the spare key."

"Yep," Reid nodded. "I will walk you to the door," he added as he stood up.

Molly grinned and gave Cameron one-armed hug and resumed drinking her tea.

Reid walked Cameron to the door and as he opened it he looked pointedly at her and said, "We never talked about it."

"Do you like to talk about it?" Cameron asked pointedly. "Because I don't and because you don't talk about it I know that you don't like to talk about it either. I'd like to have one person to talk with from time to time about everything and nothing and a person who doesn't know, more so, doesn't need to know at which age I graduated from high school. For some reason I'm sure that this feeling is completely mutual."

"What about Lian?" Reid asked quickly.

"Lian is entirely different basket, Reid, and this is not the best time and place for that kind of discussion," Cameron said as she stepped outside.

"Where is he?" Reid asked as he motioned with his head in the direction of the kitchen.

"Chicago, visiting the rest of the family, will be there at least until Sunday, possibly even longer, I don't know, for now he is deliriously happy that he graduated and in so far is plotting world dominance like every teenager does at some point," Cameron shrugged.

"How much?" Reid asked curiously.

"As if I'm going to answer that question," Cameron quipped. "Good night."

"You know that I can arrest you for avoiding answering the question," Reid chuckled.

"Without evidence you can arrest me for seventy-two hours," Cameron smirked. "I can put you in the room with padded walls for just as long and I have constitutional right to make a call. It won't be my lawyer I will be calling, just an old friend who owes me a favor," she quipped as she skipped down the stairs.

"Good night," he snickered. "Have a peaceful day at work tomorrow," he waved at her when she reached her own door.

"On a ER shift on Saturday?" Cameron sighed. "No. Way."

"So what you know about Lian?" Molly was waiting by the stairs with a small impish smirk on her face.

"Other than the obvious?" Reid sighed. "Well, he is twelve, a boy obviously despite the appearance that points to the contrary. He has blonde hair, shoulder-length at the time I saw him, slightly messy, knows how to skateboard…" he lead her upstairs to his study trying to recall few earlier memories.

"Has a perchance for smelly experiments, last time he was at them for sure rotten eggs were involved and the smell had lasted for days," he continued. "Obviously has horrible coordination… unless he was aiming at my head on purpose… He is smart because one has to be awfully smart to skip several years at school."

He paused and thought a bit harder. There had to be even an earlier memory than something from last year. Something much deeper than that…

"He has blue eyes, like Cameron's," he said pensively as Molly slipped under the blanket and patted the edge of the futon. He sat down absentmindedly and rubbed his chin before he added, "And I think that in recent years he was orphaned. I don't have a memory of ever seeing a man coming into Cameron's house, a man that kept leaving and returning anyway… But his parents might be divorced for all I know which obviously isn't much, Molly. For sure not so long ago I remember that Cameron was leaving the house with him dressed in black, official clothes, which actually could mean funeral and a funeral of a close relative… It was… two years ago… or about two years sometime between late spring and early autumn."

"Cameron is his aunt," Molly pointed out thoughtfully. "Kids rarely live away from their parents without a good reason and Cameron… she was like mum, calm and patient… as if she was taking care of someone for a longer time. Could be Lian."

"Could be," Reid agreed and messed her hair playfully. "You are awfully thoughtful, Mols."

"Enough to skip a year or two?" Molly asked cheekily.

"Trust me, it's not as funny as it seems," Reid sighed. "I skipped a few years too and now… I think that if I was given a choice I would avoid skipping, not that they would let me. Schools keep ages related policy for a reason but at times they make exceptions. For your educational development it's great, for social…" he grimaced. "It's hard to keep friends your age when you are few years ahead of them at school and it's hard to make friends with people who are older than you for those few years."

"Why?" Molly asked pensively. "There is nothing wrong with being smart."

"For you, Mols," Reid whispered. "Sometimes, kiddo, being the smartest kid in the class means being the only kid in the class, a pariah, too weird for people your age, too much of a freak for your classmates to consider you as a good material for a friend."

"Because the others are too stupid to realize what they are missing," Molly declared. "There is a girl at my school, Amy, she is ten and in my class, she is the top student and the best friend in the world."

"She is lucky to have you," Reid smiled at her.

"She told me something," Molly said confidentially as she patted his left knee. "My friend, if I could give you one thing, I would give you the ability to see yourself as others see you… then you would realize what a truly special person you are."

"Barbara A. Billings," Reid said quickly.

"And you know what I told her in return?" Molly added. "I told her what my mum taught me: In the word FRIEND, each alphabet stand for something: F for fair, R for real, I for intelligent, E for eligible, N for near and D for dear."

"Your mother is a very intelligent and dear woman," Reid gave her small smile. "And she has just as intelligent and dearest daughter, sleep Mols, if there will be some time left I'm taking all of you to the zoo."

"Thanks, Spencer," Molly smiled. "Good night."

"Good night," he said as he closed the door.

As he walked down the stairs to the living-room he pondered briefly on how much of a cretin Mike Berkeley had to be to leave his wife and kids for anyone and he prayed that Hotch would have more sense than his brother-in-law to step into the position of a paternal role model, at least for their sake.

He was falling asleep when both of his cell-phones went off at the same time.

He made a mental note to send the mightiest Trojan on Garcia's babies for making adjustment on both. As much of a boss man and federal agent Hotch was James Bond Theme was way too disturbing to be adjusted for Hotch and _Good Morning Sunshine the Earth Says Hello_ was way too cheerful for non-team related phone calls (and the team related ringtone was even more humiliating – last time when Morgan accidentally called him on his private cell phone whole police station had to endure to three rounds of Teen Titans Theme before Reid realized that it was his phone ringing).

He picked both phones, accepted the calls and put them on the speaker as he yawned, "Reid."

His answer was chorused, "Thank God, you picked up."

"Jess?" Hotch sounded surprised.

"Aaron?" Jessica asked.

"Conference call," Reid yawned.

"How are the kids?" Jessica asked.

"Fed, reasonably clean, sleeping like logs, Molly in my study, Zack, Jack, Henry and Rory in my bed, king-size not really a tight squeeze," Reid recited.

"You have Henry too?" Hotch asked quickly.

"And Clooney," Reid deadpanned. "And if Garcia calls me about the piano I'm imploring the threats of bodily harm… Do you have any idea what means to ones hearing nearly three hours drive in a car with The Berkeley-Hotchner Howling Band with Henry LaMontagne and the Whining Alsatian Named Clooney in the choirs?"

"Was it as bad as it sounds?" Jessica asked in concern.

"Not really," Reid sighed. "It's only me warning Hotch that if next few days I will be humming various nursery rhymes and other disturbing songs about beheaded corpses that give their own eulogy then it's Stockholm's Syndrome showing itself and not my personality or sudden fascination with nursery rhymes."

"They corrupted you," Jessica sounded suddenly happier.

"For the record I don't know the exact circumstances, Jess, but your husband is one hundred percent of an ass, two hundred of a coward and three hundred of a cretin. Your kids on the other hands are one hundred percent of cuteness, two hundred percents of understanding and three hundred percents of mischievous imps. They just need few singing lessons," Reid stated.

"How are you managing?" Hotch asked.

"Aside of one secret fetishist of cats that currently snores happily at my armchair that tore like tornado after the cats I'm fine. It was reasonably boring afternoon, one well-meaning angry old lady that threatened to have me arrested for three minutes it took me to get to JJ and Will, take Henry, wave them off and bring him back to the car, seriously, I was negotiating with that psycho longer than I was out of the car and the AC was running. Then I was run over by Clooney who proceed to thoroughly lick first me and later every kid in sight. I learned that the quintet is able to muzzle Clooney and put the leash on though they have to figure out the part of how to not tangle themselves in the process. Morgan keeps three car seats for the kids in his garage and I'm so going to tease him about it when I will return them. Then there was an angry, gambling veteran at the store who assaulted me with his cane, he was put off by my gun, credentials and the threat of psychiatric watch thanks to acquainted psychiatrist. Then we watched Lion King and Aladdin, I learned how many sweets it takes to have four kids sugar crash during the movie. Molly is a dear though she gave me the scare of the month."

"What happened?" Jessica asked quickly.

"Biology, stress, take your pick, I freaked out, she freaked out, I got involved a not freaked out third party who has actual doctorate in medicine and a set of ovaries which actually makes more sense than me. I also got a hand on hygienic items and spare clothes," Reid continued reciting.

"Molly…" Jessica stared. "She started menstruating?"

"Yep," Reid confirmed calmly. "Crisis averted, the only thing I think really freaked her out was how sudden it was and that it happened now of all times. But once she cleaned herself up and had a woman to woman talk with my friend she was more calmer and actually started picking up the information on her nephew, well my friend's nephew, not her own obviously. I detect a trace of an evil plan involving a trip to Georgetown to meet the boy because apparently he is her type."

"You seem to manage just fine," Hotch said calmly.

"I could do better," Reid grimaced. "But in so far the only casualty was the pumpkin and the vase and that was Clooney not the kids."

"Would you…" Jessica started nervously. "Would you mind… if Aaron…"

"The answer is yes," Reid said simply. "Keep yourself focused where you are needed. Actually you clarified my until now eventual plan to take the merry bunch to the zoo tomorrow. Unless you have a better alternative…"

"My mother is not exactly an alternative," Hotch muttered. "Maybe for Jack and if given choice I'm quite convinced that he wouldn't peek from behind your legs if he was faced with her. As for my step-mother, she is camped in the waiting room and that's a direct quote 'won't leave the hospital until my rebellious little cretin with no common sense will regain consciousness' which as I had been told won't happen at any point of Saturday and they've just taken him into another surgery."

"Whole family?" Jessica asked sympathetically.

"Unfortunately, I'm trying to resist murderous urges and in so far I'm managing," Hotch muttered darkly.

"My condolences," Reid offered sympathetically. "Well not for Sean, I hope that he is going to make it so you will be able to deliver him the riot act in this life. It was for the ass and the witch."

"You know Malcolm Hotchner and Grace Hotchner-Bosco?" Jessica sighed.

"He had the unfortunate luck to endure the Hotchner family reunion, sudden reunion I wasn't informed about and since it happened at our place I should be informed about it. Haley begged him to stay on the grounds that I told her that he had to hone his negotiating techniques and as supposed Switzerland, suspiciously not objective Swiss all evening I would be stopping myself from murdering someone so someone has to keep her from doing the same," Hotch explained. "It turned out into the greatest, funniest family reunion I ever attended and what made me deliriously happy the last unannounced reunion which brought both sides of the family into one building."

"What you had done?" Jessica asked curiously.

"Top-secret," Hotch coughed.

"He is only saying because it's about him and apparently I was so traumatized by the event that he had given me solid three weeks off but not before imploring a threat that if I ever breath a word of what transpired that evening then he will test my own chemistry dissertation on me," Reid snickered.

"What is the title of your chemistry dissertation?" Jessica asked curiously.

"'New venues of organic decomposition of proteins and calcium," Reid said quickly. "In non geek speech it's called How to Dissolve a Body in Laboratory Settings. As you see it's a quite serious threat."

"Page 178 is quite interesting, Reid," Hotch muttered.

"Bite me, Hotch," Reid smirked. "Stop threatening me with my chemistry dissertation because I happen to know your biology dissertation and I find page 156 incredibly alluring and very potent scientific experiment but since I wouldn't do that to Jack I will simply stick to old favors with psychiatrists. I assure you that while I'm not a lawyer I can find grounds for long enough period of time to keep you locked up until we will wash murderous urges towards my person from your brain."

"Ass," Hotch declared.

"Likewise," Reid coughed.

"What's the title of his biology dissertation?" Jess asked curiously.

"In non geek speech it's called How Long It Takes Carnivorous Plants to Devour a Body," Reid answered simply.

"I'm more surprised that you managed to find it," Hotch snorted.

"I'm an expert on linguistic profiling and according to many people I never meet a book I didn't like. Even professional textbooks are more or less personal, no matter how hard an author tries to avoid personalizing them they are personalized by past expertise and your textbook on negotiation covered too much references to biology for me to consider it as a mere coincidence," Reid said simply.

"And until now I believed that you are the last person to break the moratorium on inter-team profiling," Hotch muttered.

"It's not inter-team profiling," Reid shrugged. "It's called research and I have you know that it was a challenge, quite easy one but still a challenge."

"It was intended to be a challenge, an unbreakable one," Hotch snorted.

"From all people I think that you should remember to never underestimate the quiet ones," Reid quipped.

"Dalmatian," Hotch coughed.

"Narcissus," Reid countered.

"Are they your undercover names or something?" Jessica asked skeptically.

"Something," Reid and Hotch said in unison.

"Inside joke," Reid clarified. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried, merely curious," Jessica said simply.

"Dissertation," Hotch reminded him. "I've got to get going. I'll call you tomorrow. Would nine will be late enough?"

"I think so," Reid agreed. "Bye."

Hotch hung up.

"Biology?" Jessica asked curiously. "I know that it's not my business but between law school, being prosecutor and in SWAT and later BAU when Aaron found time for biology and on the level of PhD on that?"

Reid smirked at that.

"It's a very long story and he is a very good shooter who knows how to dispose a body," he reminded her. "How much you know about the Hotchners?"

"Annabel Hotchner and the older two?" Jessica asked. "They had been at Aaron's and Haley's wedding. Frowning quite a lot and looking as if someone poisoned them and I heard the gossip. Tess was actually far more kinder and a lot warmer and if my memory serves me well she is the wicked step-mother."

"Biology and association are two different things, at least in this case," Reid said simply. "Mind you I didn't get into the details because they aren't my business but I do know one thing. Tess's maiden name was Gregorowitz, not exactly common and the legal battle after William Hotchner's death was quite gore. Hotch ended with Tess by choice, he was old enough to make it and from the whole four of them he was the only one who went along with Tess to change the name. All I did was applying what I learned about Tess and how respectful he was of her during that dinner of shame. I simply typed Aaron Gregorowitz into search engine and came with few very interesting results. As I said I'm an expert on linguistic profiling. I had two dissertations from Aaron Gregorowitz and one of Aaron Hotchner plus one textbook on negotiations which, mind you in parts was a rip off from sociology dissertation."

"If he had his name changed then why he came back to it?" Jessica asked skeptically.

"I think, Harvard," Reid said simply. "What Aaron Gregorowitz wouldn't get Aaron Hotchner would. That doesn't change the fact that he still hates it and always had the team shorten it to Hotch. Once, it was in my early days in BAU, when we got very pristine and proper transfer from field office in Boston, she always insisted on sir and full tittles, even at the office. Hotch tolerated it for two weeks before he proceed to turn deaf every time she referred to him as agent Hotchner. It's purely psychological, Jess. Fathers at times do unforgivable things and their sons want people to remember that blood isn't the only thing that matters.

"Anne Sexton. It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was," Jessica sighed. "What about you?"

"Me?" Reid asked simply.

"You understand and some things… some things we understand because we know them," Jessica said simply.

"I have four PhDs, two BAs and I'm looking for the third. I know ten languages fluently and five moderately good enough. I suppressed all of my father's achievements before I was old enough to drink alcohol. It also helps that I do for the living entirely different thing than he does," Reid shrugged. "Everybody has a coping mechanism of their own."

"Molly asked me about coming back to maiden name," Jessica admitted.

"Do you want it?" Reid asked sympathetically.

"Brooks-Bernstein?" Jessica asked skeptically. "I don't mind it, but I think that at some point Molly will."

"Brooks-Bernstein?" Reid asked curiously.

"My mother decided that Brooks-Bernstein sounds better than Bernstein-Brooks and she was pissed off enough that I wanted to add my dad's name to my step-father's name and that I wouldn't give up until she allowed me. Personally I think that she wanted to forget about Sam Bernstein the same way she did. Greg was more understanding," Jessica sighed.

"Everybody reacts differently to the divorce," Reid offered.

"You could be less polite and just say out loud that she was control freak and certified bitch," Jessica coughed.

"She was sick," Reid admitted.

"It wasn't cancer, cancer actually made her more mellowed," Jessica said sourly. "Am I bad daughter to wonder why two intelligent and wonderfully understanding men got attracted to a sociopath?"

"Masochistic streak?" Reid offered. "And you are not. Just because we are their children it doesn't mean that we have to accept everything our parents do or say, especially when we are old enough to see and understand that they are wrong."

"Mike told me that he is leaving the country," Jessica said suddenly. "He is leaving everything in my name as long as I will sign the divorce papers uncontested."

"And you don't want to?" Reid asked feeling strangely like relieving similar conversation with Hotch three years ago.

"What I want I'm not going to get," Jessica said grimly. "I thought I did in the first place but now… now I'm not so sure. Hypocrisy tastes bitter, someone should do a research on how feelings taste, especially the bad ones."

"Hypocrisy?" Reid asked patiently.

"Don't pretend that you didn't see it, Reid," Jessica chastised him. "You were around when everything slowly started going to hell, later… later it only spiraled out of control, the crisis began long before Jack was born… Haley was too fixated on making things right, making things right by her book… I can't help but wonder if she would be more understanding if she'd ever meet my dad. Maybe then she would be able to let go when there was still time for them to recover."

"I doubt so," Reid grimaced. "I don't know about Haley but I know Hotch well enough to know that without Jack he would be a lose canon. Jack always kept him grounded, still does and always will…. If…" he hung his voice.

"Don't feel ashamed to admit it," Jessica sighed. "I know that I did."

"I did," Reid said quietly. "Haley's death was a step towards the edge of the abyss, Jack's would be the step into the abyss and I know that Jack is the reason the abyss with everyday is a step farther and farther away and you are a part of it."

"I'm not…" Jessica protested.

"You are," Reid interrupted her. "You are huge part of Jack's life, Jess, don't dismiss your importance in it. That you are there is the reason that Jack is still innocent, he smiles, he is adjusted. Sure he still has problems but considering the trauma he survived… he is freakingly well adjusted Jess because despite the trauma of losing Haley his world hadn't ended, it changed, it morphed and it adjusted but it didn't end."

"He still wets the bed at some nights," Jessica admitted. "He still has nightmares."

"And he will always have them," Reid sighed. "And he will wet the bed for years to come. It's a coping mechanism. Contrary to popular proverb time doesn't heal everything, it only gives the mind enough distance to protect one's sanity. The memories of that day will be locked in Jack's mind forever but with time he will think about it less and less and concentrate only on the good memories."

"Thank you," Jessica sighed. "For listening, and talking and taking care of the kids at such short notice."

"You are welcome," Reid smiled to the receiver. "Don't worry about them, they will be fine."

* * *

><p>He contemplated whatever or not it was his overuse of the word <em>fine<em> that heralded every disaster in progress because every time he said it something went wrong.

No less than five minutes after he hung up on Jessica and started falling asleep again he heard a massive crack followed by loud thump and the lights on the street went out.

Naturally the noise woke up the sleeping bunch and terrified of surrounding darkness lot had all but dragged him to stay with them until the lights would come back.

Henry managed to drift off, Rory managed to drift off, Jack managed to drift off and even Zack nodded off but the light didn't come back.

He woke up with a stiff neck from sleeping in half seated position, blanketed by the sleeping heads. Zack had his head pressed to Reid's right arm, Jack was practically squished between Zack and Reid and had his head on Reid's right shoulder. Henry ended climbing during the night on the top and was snoring happily on Reid's chest. Rory wedged herself in the crook between Reid's left arm and shoulder.

Molly, wide awake seated herself in the corner with Count Monte Christo and was smirking.

It was then when it occurred to Reid to look past Henry's head and discover while his legs felt dead too.

Clooney sprawled himself partially over his legs and what space on him wasn't occupied by the kids or the dog it was occupied by Luciano, Placido and Jose.

"It's not funny," Reid mumbled sleepily as he contemplated how to rub his eyes without waking either of the kids.

The feeling of sand in his eyes made him curse inwardly for leaving his contacts in.

"I didn't say that it was funny," Molly said simply. "Aren't you a magician?" she smirked.

"I'm outnumbered and dislocating my shoulder is not the plan for the day," he told her simply as he looked down at sleeping Rory.

If he moved his left arm few inches away he would be able to support himself on the headboard as he would try to remove his right arm from underneath Zack's and Jack's heads.

It took a lot of acrobatics but after few minutes he managed to extract himself from the bed without waking up the occupants, aside of Clooney and the cats which simply proceed to glare at him in offense for not playing pill up on Reid.

With electricity still out there was not much he could do at home.

Mindful of his mum's condition and constant paranoid fear of one day coming back home to find it blown up upon moving to DC in his first two rented flats he ignored gas cookers point blank, instead hooking small, portable electric cooker.

When he moved back to Georgetown and this time into the house, small as it was it was his, all gas installation at the place had been closed shut and electric appliances had been installed in their place. Which in situations just like this one had a major downfall. No electricity meant no food, no warm water. Nothing.

"How about installing solar system?" Molly offered curiously. "Or gas."

"Gas is passé," he told her simply. "I guess that's Subway then, they have decent breakfast menu and it's just ten minutes away so I don't have to drive the car."

Forty-five minutes later sitting on a gurney in ER at Georgetown University Hospital with Jack and Zack seated on his left and Rory and Henry sitting on his right while Molly was standing by the side of the gurney with a partially terrified, partially curious expression he decided that the morning would be much better if less than hour earlier he sucked up his pride, packed up the kids and Clooney into the car and simply drove to McDonalds.

"Do I even want to know how did you got it?" Cameron asked skeptically as she seated herself in front of him on a stool and brought the rolling table and suturing kit closer to the gurney.

"Fat Cody," Reid deadpanned grimly.

"We went to have breakfast at Subway," Molly said simply.

Sometimes it was just this simple.

* * *

><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>

_Next chapter: Trust Me I'm A Doctor. And that statement goes two ways. We learn what happened at Subway, Reid tries to wriggle himself out from yet another hard spot while Cameron tries to stab him, repeatedly, with a needle. Suggestions of possible tortures greatly welcomed. I know one thing for sure at some point of Saturday The Berkeley-Hotchner Howling Band with Henry LaMontagne and the Whining Alsatian Named Clooney Doing Choirs encounters Reid's greatest fear (and one he isn't aware of having until it actually happens, and no it's not darkness and happens to be more mortifying than a disorganized psychopath on psychotic break swinging an ax)._


	5. Chapter 5: Trust Me I'm a Doctor

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

It's my second fic and obviously English is not my first language as You will probably quickly spot it. However I hope that I'd given the characters the justice they deserve.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter five: Trust Me, I'm a Doctor.<strong>

Rounding up the kids was easy, '_Pancakes!_' clarified the menu and pancakes at Subway happened to be very good so heading to Subway was fairly obvious.

On his way to Subway he feverishly started contemplating the idea of a leash. Winfield Lane Northwest itself on seven o'clock in the morning, on Saturday was probably the calmest street in DC and for sure it was in Georgetown so as long as they were walking down the street it wasn't a problem that Jack and Zack decided to play tag nor was the fact that their favorite activity was making the circles around Reid who already had his hands full of Rory and Henry who point blank refused to walk and had to be carried. Rory as the older in piggy back manner and Henry on his left hip

The idea of the leash had entered Reid's mind only after they had gotten closer to Reservoir Road NW which despite the weekend and early morning was filled with cars driving unlucky sods who had to work today.

Thankfully, Molly, clever girl, grabbed Jack the Road Runner and Zack E. Coyote by their arms before they managed to end under one of the cars and refused to let them go until Reid herded the merry bunch into Subway.

Getting the vagabonds to sit down at the table in the corner was an easy part, the promise of pancakes worked its magic and they actually sat down.

Then his cell phone rang, again.

"How are my favorite boys?" he heard JJ's voice in the receiver.

"Fine," Reid said simply. "We are about to have breakfast."

"Pancakes!" the hungry lot chorused.

"Pancakes as you for sure heard," Reid added with small smile.

"Are you at day care centre?" JJ asked skeptically.

"Not, Subway. Why are you asking?" Reid asked innocently.

"Because either there is a weird echo in there or you are surrounded by a bunch of prepubescent kids," JJ said pointedly.

"The later," Reid said simply.

"Whose?" JJ asked patiently.

"The Berkeley-Hotchner Quartet minus Clooney the Whining Alsatian," Reid clarified.

"Are you telling me that you have four more children and Morgan's dog under your care?" JJ asked weakly.

"Pretty much so," Reid confirmed as he grabbed the peppershaker from Rory's hands and put it back on the table.

"When you got them?" JJ asked patiently.

"Yesterday at the office," Reid shrugged.

"You had them at the airport and you didn't say a word?" JJ groaned. "Spence, you could have said something and I would…"

"I'm fine, Henry is fine, they are fine. Hey even Clooney is fine because he had gotten his cat fix. We had a movie night, dinner, they went to sleep, we woke up and we are going to have breakfast now. Later we are going to the zoo and everything will be fine."

"Spence…" JJ started. "I'm not trying to say that you won't manage…"

"That's exactly what you are implying," he said simply. "You don't have to sic Garcia on me… Actually I'm quite convinced that after her display yesterday she would have your return flight rerouted through Tokyo, Moscow and Paris if you would call her now. It's a huge back up she has to make and she and Kevin need some quality time. Hence I need some quality time with bright eyed bundles of joy so you can stop fretting and concentrate on Will's aunt."

"It's five prepubescent kids and the dog," JJ pointed out.

"If I will be unable to control the situation I have a backup plan and quite willing baby-sitter who can lend me a hand, or two and also happens to have a doctorate in medicine so I have all grounds covered. Unless you count on sudden implosion of the universe but I don't think that it would matter…" Reid shrugged. "Who wants milk?" he lowered the receiver.

"Cocoa!" Jack and Zack squealed.

"Choco!" Rory and Henry squealed.

"Can I have coffee?" Molly asked pointedly. "With lots of milk."

"Seriously JJ, we are going to be just fine," Reid told her. "You can stop fretting."

"Mothers always fret," JJ told him.

"I know," Reid said pointedly. "At the moment without a reason. I'm turning thirty-one in October and I'm skilled negotiator. We are going to be fine so you don't have to worry about us."

"I will try not to," JJ sighed. "Bye, Spence, give Henry a kiss from me."

"Bye JJ," Reid said simply and he kissed Henry's head. "Mommy sends a kiss, kiddo."

JJ giggled into the receiver and hung up.

"Why you had to remind Henry's mom of how old you are?" Molly asked curiously.

"Because from the whole team I'm the youngest and when I started working I was really, really young, Mols," Reid told her. "I was the kid who had to learn everything and at times the team just forgets that not only I'm experienced agent but also that I'm not a kid anymore. Sometimes they simply act as if they didn't get that memo and I have to remind them."

"How old you were when you became an agent?" Zack asked curiously.

"I was twenty-one when I went into the academy," Reid answered simply.

"That's old," Zack said.

"Uncle Aaron said that the academy doesn't accept cadets under twenty-three," Molly said pensively.

"I was the exception," Reid grimaced.

"You are still old," Zack shrugged.

"Thank you, I will take it for the compliment," Reid chuckled. "So pancakes with what?"

"Apple sauce," Jack grinned.

"Maple syrup," Zack smiled.

"Whipped-cream and raisins," Molly said.

"Chocolate," Rory beamed.

"And you buddy?" Reid looked down at Henry.

"Choco!" Henry squalled.

"Choco it's then," Reid agreed. "Wait here, I'll be right back."

He sat Henry down in the booth and made it to the counter. He managed to put an order for the pancakes and quickly got hot beverages. He was on his way back to the booth with a tray full of drinks in hand when he suddenly felt that something grizzled his left arm, slammed into the mugs which shattered even before he dropped the tray because something grizzled his right arm too.

His reaction to what happened was instinctual one. It was subconscious, unprofessional and, as it occurred to him few minutes later, completely brainless reaction.

He didn't think, he just reacted.

From the corner of his eye by his left, and also the door he spotted an old junkie appropriately named by the locals Fat Cody. Fat Cody was waving with the gun (semi-automatic Glock 17, his mind supplied quickly) and threatening to shot everyone who won't give him money.

Cody was so fixated on the pair on his right, dressed in suits, either doctors or bankers, Reid didn't concentrate on them that hard.

And it was then when experienced federal agent and trained hostage negotiator SSA Dr Spencer Reid had suddenly decided to take a coffee break and overprotective _JJ, Hotch, Will and Jess will kill me if something happens to the kids_ godfather entered the scene…

"…and then Uncle Spencer grabbed the chair and slammed it against his head so hard that the guy went down like a house of cards!" Zack squalled with enthusiasm.

"And he cuffed him like a colt at the rodeo!" Jack piped up.

"And he didn't even realize that he was bleeding until the policeman told him to get to the ambulance," Molly interjected. "Then he told him 'I'm a step away from a hospital I don't need the ambulance, I can walk myself there quite fine' and he told us to follow him."

"As you heard we had quite interesting morning," Reid quipped as he observed cautiously how Cameron was stitching his left arm.

"It's still morning," Cameron pointed out as she dabbed the needle in his skin. "Either stop squirming or suck up your pride and accept lidnocaine."

"Thank you very much you won't be dozing me with any narcotics," Reid snorted.

"It's analgesic," Cameron muttered. "Doctor of chemistry my bum."

"Adverse effects," Reid coughed.

"Pain relief and numbing agent. But sure be a closet masochist, just remember that Hippocratic Oath obliged me to ask if you wanted analgesic," Cameron said simply.

"The only needle you are jabbing into me, and repeatedly on that, would be the stitching needle and not any other," Reid grumbled.

"You are naïve if you think that with two gunshot wounds you won't be getting Tetanus shot and broad-spectrum antibiotic," Cameron snorted.

"They are superficial," Reid said simply.

"Still they are gunshot wounds and I'm not even mentioning second degree burns on both of your arms and chest," Cameron muttered.

"The shirt stays on," Reid muttered. "Pants too. Just fix my arms and I will be…"

_Fine_ froze in his throat

"…the forbidden f word which is not the f word you are thinking about," he finished grimly.

"Sure, doctor," Cameron snorted.

"Has someone ever told you that you have a bedside manner of a psychopath?" Reid quipped.

"The imbecile with no sense of self-preservation, two superficial gunshot wounds on his arms done by one bullet together with second degree burns due to hot milk quite recently voiced that notion," Cameron said sweetly.

"Is this how geeks court?" Molly asked innocently.

"Original Star Wars trilogy, avid discussion of whatever Piccard or Kirk was the best captain of Star Trek and statistics," Reid snorted.

"Yes, because statistically every provable genius has to be Star Trek fan," Cameron snorted.

"Not every," Reid quipped. "It's just that Star Trek is appealing to the majority of educated minds, young Padawan"

"Statistically speaking when you take the dog out for a walk both of you have three legs," Cameron muttered. "I don't know how FBI calls it but medicine refers to it as medical curiosum."

"I'm not questioning your area of expertise and I expect you to do the same," Reid snorted. "Statistics is… ouch," the needle dug a little too deep for his liking and he yelped. "Crotalus horridus."

"Lidocaine now?" Cameron offered sweetly. "Synthetoceras."

"No, thank you," Reid coughed. "I managed so far I can manage some more. Just give me Tylenol or something and I will be…" he paused, avoiding saying the f word, "I will be good," he finished. "Why you are referring to me as extinct genus of Artiodactyla?"

"Because as far as snakes are concerned I prefer being called a viper, as for the extinct part guess why," Cameron shrugged.

"Why you didn't want lidocaine?" Molly asked curiously.

"Allergy," Reid coughed.

"Not to lidocaine," Cameron muttered when Reid glared at her she shrugged simply, "What? I have access to your medical history, you had lidocaine after you got shot almost two years ago."

"I have high tolerance for pain," Reid said grimly.

"And an allergy to opioids," Cameron muttered under her breath.

"Lidocaine is not an opioid," Molly said simply and at the surprised look on faces of both adults she said simply. "What? I read the labels. Is this you don't talk about the noose in the house of hanged man discussion?" she asked pensively.

Now they both gapped at Molly.

"My school does the talks," Molly said simply. "Besides last year some cretin tried to distribute LSD on the school grounds, older brother of a seventh grader. He was arrested and the brother was booted out from school and ever since then we get 'drugs are bad' talks every other week."

"They are," Reid and Cameron muttered in unison.

"Self-experience?" Molly asked.

"Hazard of the job," Cameron explained. "Dealing with addictions is a part of psychiatric medicine, not my forte because my area of expertise are mental illness but I'm a doctor of psychiatric medicine so I was prepared to handle addictions too."

"Why you didn't?" Molly asked curiously.

"Predispositions," Cameron said simply. "I still do rounds in detox but I have more experience with mental illnesses and that's my prime specialization in psychiatry."

"What kind of mental illnesses?" Molly asked.

"Mental disorders, mostly psychotic disorders but I also deal with patients with anxiety and mood disorders," Cameron explained.

"Like?" Molly pressed.

"Depression, fobias, schizophrenia," Cameron sighed.

"People like John Nash, that famous mathematician?" Molly asked curiously.

"Let me guess, _Beautiful Mind_?" Cameron asked curiously.

Molly nodded eagerly, "That movie turned you to psychiatric medicine?"

"Not really," Cameron said simply. "It's a good movie though," she added. "Schizophrenia is too complex to explain it in one sitting, Molly. I could start explaining the mechanism but first, you wouldn't understand half of the things I'm saying because psychiatric medicine and mental disorders are far too complex and complicated for sixth grade and second, I don't think that you would find it fascinating because there is nothing fascinating about it."

"You are a psychiatrist," Molly pointed out.

"I'm a doctor," Cameron corrected her. "My prime concern is the care and well-being of my patients. Schizophrenia is a lifetime illness, Molly, there is no wonderful cure or miracle recovery. What is, is managing the symptoms, controlling them to improve the quality of one's life to make it more bearable, more peaceful."

"It's sad," Molly admitted. "That there is no cure."

"Oh, yeah, it is," Cameron sighed.

"Why there is no cure?" Jack asked, Reid almost forgot that other kids aside of Molly were there and he almost kicked himself.

"Because schizophrenia affects one's mind, Jack," Cameron said patiently. "And human mind is the most complex area of the medicine, the one with the most blank spots on which we can make assumptions but never know for sure. Sure there are a lot of tools which help to undercover the mysteries of the brain but tools that allow the others to get into one's brain weren't invented yet."

"Is it something you are born with?" Jack asked pensively. "Like bad heart."

"Yes," Cameron confirmed.

"So it's not someone's fault that they are sick?" Jack asked. "They didn't chose to be sick, right?"

"Right, kiddo," Cameron agreed.

"Then why people hate people with ill mind?" Zack asked.

"Because they aren't common, the way they think, the way their mind works is not common and if something is not common and one cannot understand it…" Cameron said with a sigh. "Sometimes for people it's easier to hate what they don't understand but only people with small minds hate what they don't understand rather than try to understand and look for answers."

"That's stupid," Zack summed it up. "I hate Isabel but she took dad and made an idiot out of him. She has red hair but my best friend also has red hair and he is the best buddy in the world and that girl from my school, Missy was saying that all red haired people are bad."

"Most probably she was parroting what she heard from her parents," Reid interjected. "That doesn't mean that she is bad, only that her parents are close-minded and she is inclined to repeat their stereotypes."

"What's a sterotype?" Jack asked.

"Ster_e_o… type," Reid accented the 'e'. "It's a belief, gossip like, that certain people or things with certain traits like red hair or crooked teeth or generally uncommon traits are … insert here a quality which makes people despise or at the very least not trust them."

"Like the belief that all cats are false?" Molly asked.

"People who hate cats were mice in their previous life," Reid declared.

"Aren't you stereotyping _now_?" Cameron giggled.

"I'm not," Reid said simply. "I'm biased because I have three cats. I'm not much of a dog person but I have no problems with Clooney, though he could be less of a disaster in my personal opinion, but perhaps he is overexcited because he likes cats. That doesn't mean that the cats like to have overexcited dog running after them."

"Cats are funny too," Jack declared.

Reid smirked. Of course Jack would believe that since the whole game of _let's play tag and run in circles around Reid_ was hugely inspired by Luciano playing tag with his own tail.

"You gave your statement?" Cameron asked curiously.

"Yep, at Subway, I managed to talk the cop out from calling their parents," Reid shrugged. "Apparently FBI, SSA and Unit Chief in one sentence managed to calm poor kid's nerves. After all my supervisor wouldn't trust me with his son and nephews and nieces if I wasn't trustworthy and some things are better taken from trustworthy people."

"I didn't see you calling," Cameron shrugged.

"Well, they were unharmed and I was dripping blood all over the floor…"

"…and parking lot," Molly interjected.

"And I needed to prepare my mental shields for the task because last thing I want is telling Hotch that I took the kids out and I ended being shoot because I know that would distract him," Reid shrugged. "But I have to tell him."

"You don't have to tell dad now," Jack proposed. "He would be worried."

"You could wait until he calls," Molly offered. "Then he would know that it's not a big deal."

"Yeah right, sorry Mols, but I like my life… well mine and not telling the truth to your uncle equals with…" Reid shook his head. "Let's just say that as soon as Cameron is done with bandaging me and we would go home I will call him."

Then James Bond Theme rang and Reid cursed inwardly. Upon entrance he told Molly to get his cell phones and keep them until he would get cleared off and sure enough Molly picked up the call.

"Hey uncle Aaron," she said cheerfully. "Yeah, I know," she nodded. "Aunt Kate is bandaging him right now… Nah, he is fine, it's just a superficial gunshot wound, few stitches, few jabs with a needle to not get it infected… It was nothing… Seriously… No, a junkie walked into the bar and fired a shot from the gun… Trust me the junkie looked worse than Uncle Spencer when Uncle Spencer was done with him… It was only one shot and not really deep one. Sure…"

She handed the phone to Jack.

"We are fine, daddy," Jack declared. "Uncle Spencer is less fine but Aunt Kate is bandaging him and he will be fine when she will finish." Pause. "I'm fine, I wasn't even scared. The man was down and cuffed before I could get scared. Uncle Spencer was really cool, he hit him with a chair … and handcuffed him like a calf at rodeo."

'Coolest uncle ever' Cameron mouthed with small smirk.

"You bet," Reid smirked. "I will still be told off."

"Dad wants to talk with you," Jack said as he handed over the phone.

"Reid…" Hotch started with a heavy sigh. "How did you got them into this?"

"It wasn't me," Reid said simply. "It was a junkie _with_ a gun, then he was a junkie _**without**_a gun but with what I was told concussion, dislocated knuckle, few bruises. The only thing I actually did was taking them out for breakfast and being in the wrong place in the wrong time…" he eyed Henry who was eyeing a latex glove way too hard for him to like the next part… "Molly, could you…" he looked up at Molly.

"Sure," Molly nodded and picked the glove before she smirked and started blowing into it so the glove turned into a balloon which focused Henry's attention elsewhere.

"And they weren't even close to the gun," Reid continued. "Molly managed to calm them down and keep them rounded up while I was giving the statement. As for me I got merely grizzled by the bullet, I don't even require a surgery, just stitching…" the needle grizzled him too deep again, "Holly… Aunt of Fanny and Fabian the rabbit," he yelped. "Sorry, my doctor has a bedside manner of a psychopath."

"I offered you lidocaine," Cameron said simply. "You still have the other arm to get stitched."

"Reid I can come back…" Hotch started but Reid didn't allow him to finish.

"Sure you can," Reid quipped. "Except you will be distracted by not knowing what's going on with Sean and with the kids you cannot afford to be distracted. I'm completely capable of taking care of them through the rest of the weekend. Think of Tess, Hotch, she needs a strong arm by her side and somehow I don't see Malcolm, Grace and Annabel being greatly supportive. In fact, as far as I know them they would be spouting remarks about her getting what she deserved for breaking the family like we both know she didn't and as far as I know the rest of the family and weather report Thaddeus won't be leaving Sydney anytime soon, I doubt that Nathalie managed to make it from London before the storm broke and Helen is most probably still grounded in Tokyo. Face it Hotch, right now you are all support Tess has against the other three and while physically you would come back, mentally you would be still in New York so save yourself the trip and stay where you are."

"Remind me again why I taught you to negotiate?" Hotch sighed.

"Because you needed someone to help you negotiate with psychotic unsubs and I was the best student in class?" Reid offered. "Seriously, they are f… they are great and as soon as I will be patched up I'm taking them to the zoo. We are going to have fun and I seriously doubt that the elephants would decide that today is the best day for pulling grand escape… and if they do then let's face it someone upstairs really hates me."

"If I were you I would stop supplying the ideas," Cameron muttered.

"Or what?" Reid quipped. "Sorry Hotch, I got to go, a doctor with a sharp needle is waiting for me. You have nothing to worry, seriously, they are safer with me than they would be in Fort Knox. Bye."

"That's asking for a disaster," Cameron summed it up.

"Why you think so?" Reid asked skeptically.

"Ovaries to which you _oh so_ appealed last night," Cameron said sweetly. "I'm not a single, early thirties male with five kids and a dog."

"Your point being?" Reid asked skeptically.

"Logistics," Cameron said simply. "You are going to zoo, with five kids, two of which happen to be toddlers, to that you are bringing a dog and you are heading to zoo on a bright and sunny Saturday morning. You are a genius, figure it out."

Reid frowned and contemplated the idea for a moment. It actually didn't take a genius to figure out that the parking at National Zoological Park on relatively early, sunny, Saturday morning would be packed full with cars. He figured it out long time ago when he was actually using his weekends for sightseeing.

Additionally kids of any age easily grew tired and at some point required being carried around therefore anyone not equipped with a stroller regretted not taking one fairly quickly.

The car ride was excluded when zoo was concerned which meant public transport, with a stroller, a _twin_ stroller on that and constantly making sure that the other three plus Clooney won't get lost. Naturally he had no idea where to find a twin stroller in the first place other than the fact that he was going to need one.

"I'm a screw," he declared. "I'm screwed."

"Yes, you are," Cameron nodded simply. "I can call a favor or two if you need a hand."

* * *

><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>

_Next chapter: That would depend actually whatever or not in Reid should win male pride or common sense. I'm open to suggestions. Anyway next chapter would be devoted to zoo and if my calculations are correct the one after zoo would be devoted to Reid's greatest fear and lengths he would go to avoid it at all cost._


	6. Chapter 6: Little Red Corvette

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

It's my second fic and obviously English is not my first language as You will probably quickly spot it. However I hope that I'd given the characters the justice they deserve.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

_Chapter summary: Because the trip to the zoo would be too easy. Beware of quirky chapter and of Reid's dramatic streak (everybody has a breaking point, even he). Enjoy._

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><p><strong>Chapter six: Little Red Corvette<strong>

"So you want to take our little red Corvette for a ride?" asked Mr Robinson with a smirk.

_Want? No. Need it? Sure as hell__. How else I'm supposed to get five kids and a dog to the zoo without spending about a hour circling the parking like a dunderhead in a Suburban?_

Little red Corvette….

Symbolically red was a color of sin, passion, love, guilt, pain, blood, anger, warning but also courage and sacrifice.

And by association red to him was all those things.

Most notably red was feminine and it reminded him of feminine passion on many different levels.

Emily loved red, red shirts, red dresses, red shoes. For Emily red was the color of courage, of passion, of sin (to win, though he never had a chance to learn what in the name of Aunt Clementine it meant but sure as hell he remembered the poker game he lost to her), finally red was the color of her blood which loss was the reason of her death, thanks to a certain asshole named Ian Doyle.

Then there was Rita Milagros, team Delta. _Warning_ if he ever saw one on a woman and of course blood but the blood part came to him on one lazy Sunday morning when the team was on stand down for the second weekend in a row and he was so not in mood for reading that he offered to help Cameron repot red roses in her garden. Somehow they managed to end gossiping about behaviorism and female coworkers. He told Cameron that Milagros in about monthly intervals liked to wear red clothes for several days, mostly knee-length skirts, trouser but also whole costumes and that for the life of him he couldn't figure out why… well Cameron explained to him why after he pulled her out from the small pond where she collapsed in a fit of giggles right after he informed her about Milagros' curious pattern of wearing red clothes… In total it was a very enlightening morning though the con side of it was a painful reminder that he had no social life whatsoever and that his dating history was rusty at best.

Emily and Milagros were brunettes. So was Cameron and because red looked good on brunettes Cameron also wore red. In her case they were ankle-length skirts, all meant for office days, which she wore from late spring to mid autumn. She had about four of them or it was five but he made a strong mental note to stop noticing them when he got the answer _why_ she wore these skirts. Technically he should have figured it out when he started noticing how many different red skirts she owned but getting the information straight from the source was more clarifying.

Red color never failed to capture men's attention and smart woman knew how to use colors to show off her attributes. Well… Amen to that, he never saw her wearing a red skirt after that discussion other than on two or three occasions than when she was heading to work and had no time for small talk.

Red looked good on females, especially brunettes but that didn't mean that men didn't wear it too and that they didn't exhibit certain kinds of behavior while wearing red clothes.

Most notably it was him and Hotch though on completely different occasions.

On good days when there was little at the office to do, there was no planned meetings and the team was on a stand down and in overall Hotch was in good mood Hotch wore red tie, ruby red, no stripes or other patterns, just plain ruby red. Reid remembered it well from separate occasions when both Hotchners, Hotch and Haley tried to coach him in expert witness act, despite his protests that expert he might be but he looked too young to be a convincing one in court.

Hotch coached him from tactics and behavior while Haley riled into him dress code, and let's face it she had great fun with ordering him in and out of twenty different kinds of suits, in total forty-seven shirts and fifty-seven ties, Reid endured the dress up patiently until it came to his mismatched socks when he vehemently protested the whole dress up concept because as far as he was concerned trousers covered his socks and he had dress shoes high enough to cover them from that side too. Other people had lucky charms, he had his mismatched socks and last time he wore matching socks he twisted his ankle in the middle of empty, straight like an arrow corridor and ended on crutches for two weeks.

That particular ruby red tie made its appearance on the second dress up and was plain and simple vetoed by both Hotchners, supposedly because ruby red didn't match white shirt and black suit but a bit later Haley revealed in passing that Hotch wore this particular tie on their prom ball and her smirk after she said it told Reid the rest of the story. It was also the reason why the tie went MIA around the time Hotch and Haley separated but resurface about three months after Haley died. And if Hotch caught Reid smirking to himself on every occasion the tie resurfaced he didn't question it… he just brought a mug of coffee to Reid's desk which Reid himself learned to mostly avoid like a plague because for someone who claimed that he had no sense of humor, smiled next to none and was ready to deliver riot act to every prankster in the bullpen Hotch **did** posses deeply buried mischievous streak which resurfaced once upon a blue moon, and usually it was aimed at Reid.

The _ruby red tie coffee_ was Bureau's plain coffee, with three sugars, no creamers, no milk, hint of vanilla sugar and a sprinkle of chili. First time Hotch delivered him that coffee Reid barely made it to the bathroom to throw up, the coffee as well as the breakfast and as he strongly suspected the dinner from the day before. In response, on the same day, sometime later, he threw a spoonful of curry into briefing room's coffee pot and observed curiously how quickly Morgan, Rossi, Emily and JJ excused themselves from the table and made a hasty retreat to the bathroom. Hotch, who also poured himself the coffee from the _curry_ pot slightly grimaced on the first sip but other than that he didn't show to oblivious, and lucky because she hit the kitchenette coffee pot first, Garcia that his coffee was also tampered with.

Later on _ruby red tie poisoned coffee war_ became regular thing and the battle of wills between the two of them and BAU's terror. Profilers as they were it took whole BAU three separate occasions to figure out that Hotch's ruby red tie meant sending one unlucky sod down to the cafeteria for not poisoned coffee which meant that between the two of them Hotch and Reid had a free access to the coffee pot that would remain unspoiled by the rest of the BAU for the entire day which also lead to another war, also silent, which one of them would prepare better tasting coffee which lead to cryptic to the rest of the office (if someone was curious enough to peek over their shoulders) remarks about how _awful_ the other's coffee tasted which somehow lead to having Hotch leave the office with less tensed shoulders than usual.

As for Reid his own red clothes had a different meaning altogether. His burgundy cardigan was extremely comfortable, warm which made it even better and it was great for casual wear. Also it wasn't THE vest which he point blank burnt down after Georgia, but he also burnt down every piece of clothing he wore during his captive. He also owned a red shirt from Cal-Tech times, by now too small for everyday wear but together with worn out blue Queen t-shirt (which the team wouldn't catch him wearing it in public, ever), even more worn out pair of jeans and the oldest pair of converses he owned it was THE recovering junkie combo.

Naturally it had its own meaning. It wasn't connected at all to the time he was using but to the hellish path he went through when he stopped. Other than the socks he didn't believe in lucky artifact of clothing or at the very least a very meaningful one but that combo was exactly that. A reminder of what he left behind when he moved back to Georgetown, of a hard work to stay clean, stay focused on what was right even if it wasn't easy.

Morgan worked up his issues on demolishing the walls and restoring homes and while Reid wasn't Morgan he understand the overwhelming desire to smash something into little pieces but rather than to destroy he wanted to create.

He never brought up the issue to the team simply because there was no need for it and if he actually would bring it up this particular piece of information would raise more than several eyebrows and most probably all of them would make a laughing stock out of him.

There were only three people aside of him, well technically four but only two actually saw him with his creations and him doing the actual work on them. The first person he confided in about his little secret was Ethan, who said that if it was making him happy and it was helping him to battle his demons then sure as hell he should still doing what he was doing.

Then for a very long time there was no one else, not even Gideon, until the cravings had returned and he had to turn himself to NA meetings where he had meet John Evans. One meeting, after Colorado he spent fidgeting so badly that John didn't offer him a ride home but actually brought him home himself and observed how Reid worked himself to the ground. Few weeks later when John invited him over for dinner after the meeting, with him and his wife, Joyce, Reid had given her one of his creations which earned him a warm small and a second helping of a mind blowing Chicken Fettuccini Alfredo (and dear God, Joyce knew how to cook).

The last person who learned about his secret was Cameron, and only because the pet project he was working on for almost two years (to be exact twenty-one months, three weeks and two days) required two pairs of hands to have it properly installed, and obviously a test before the show off at '_let's infest Reid's garden team barbeque_'.

And if he ended grinning like an idiot through the entire day when JJ and Will alternatively with Morgan had grilled him for the name of the creator of the _coolest swinging seat ever_ then it only meant that he had done great job.

His guilty pleasure, greatest secret, legal drug and quite quirky coping mechanism when he wasn't in mood for reading or studying was carpentry, more specifically carpentry of self-designed wooden furniture.

It started with bookshelves which at his new house he had way too little and the house itself weighed solidly on his budget so for the sake of his own sanity he bought readymade bookshelf that only required screwing and hanging up on the wall. Except it wasn't what he needed and somehow, step by step, plank by plank he designed every bookshelf at his house, mostly small and medium sized that allowed him to move them without help and if combined together they made cool floor to ceiling bookshelves.

When he grown bored with bookshelves he attempted to put together a table, which ended with a disaster not worth mentioning and a severe case of bruised bottom and even more bruised ego. By then he moved on smaller things that required a steady hand (and as a chemist he had two steady hands). Spice-shelves, coat hangers, spice-basket (a present for Joyce proudly displayed in their dining-room on all occasions and according to John one of her favorite items in the house).

The swing was daring project but he felt ridiculously giddy when he curled himself on it with a warm cup of tea on a late spring evening and attempted to watch the sunset (attempted because his house was north-south oriented and not much of sunset watching could be done from the back porch). Naturally the cats loved it silly and on a day off he had to fight with them for a little space.

And for carpentry he needed a set of clothes which he could safely tear and get dirty and that was the red shirt, Queen t-shirt, old worn off jeans and old converses.

All in all **red** had many meanings but as far as he was concerned **red Corvette** meant exactly that: red Corvette. He certainly didn't expect a _**twin stroller**_.

Well it was red, ruby red to be exact.

When Cameron offered to call on a favor or two he wholly expected her to trade shifts and offer to go with him and the kids to the zoo. The truth was, he needed additional pair of hands and Molly seemed to be genuinely interested in learning more about Cameron, or rather more specifically, Cameron's nephew. Plus Cameron was a doctor and a mother so scrapped knees to her was no news, unlike to him because they terrified him and if either Henry or Jack had scrapped knees in his company there was always around either of their parents and it was their job to comfort the injured and to patch him up.

The favor turned out to be a call to Mrs & Mr Robinson from _the house with a hell of a backyard_ like the neighborhood referred to the property under number 3570 which had the backyard in size of an average terrace house, actually once upon time under number 3568 there was the actual house but the folktale claimed that one day it disappeared and didn't reappear again. Reid, not a firm believer of urban folktale devoted once whole afternoon to research of the disappearing property which turned out to be a victim of incredibly botched up installation coupled with a bunch of irresponsible, spoiled students which lead the house into ruin so bad that it hadn't been restored but demolished.

Mrs & Mr Robinson were retired professors, respectively of American literature and American history. Happily married since senior year in high school parents of two daughters and three sons and grandfathers of thirteen, soon to be fourteen kids in total and they were one of the nicest and most welcoming people in the neighborhood.

Four of their kids ended moving in to west coast, three to various parts of California, one to Seattle. Their youngest daughter moved away with her husband to Baltimore and occasionally dropped off her twin daughters for the weekend. Hence the stroller.

But why Mr Robinson, his wife and even Cameron referred to the stroller as _little red Corvette_ was completely beyond the level of Reid's comprehension at the moment and being a provable genius he could comprehend a lot. Except this…

"Contours Options Tandem Stroller, Ruby," Mr Robinson introduced the Corvette. "Year 2009, heavy duty. Should hold the youngest two just fine, holds Sally and Lana anyway and they aren't small for three and half years old."

Reid was speechless. It happened rarely but it never happened over a stroller, pardon, _much needed twin stroller_ that could hold Henry and Rory both and then some. Except he had problems with what he was supposed to say to **that** introduction.

'I own a 1965 Volvo Amazon P130 122S in color of horizon blue. It's quirky and it lives its own life but I don't want to sell it because it belonged to my mum and before her to my grandmother Ramona Rosedale whom I never meet. And yes, thank you, I'm sentimental.'

So he settled on plain and simple, "Wow."

"Indeed," Mr Robinson agreed. "Want a quick introduction while Elsie feeds the merry bunch."

"Could you?" Reid asked sheepishly. "I feel awful for eating you out of your house and home and taking the stroller on such a short notice."

"Never mind, my boy, between you and me, Elsie misses not having the kids around terribly. That's the supposed bright side of the retirement, enjoying your life without wondering whatever or not junior and senior contemplate blowing the house up and once they are gone and have those kind of problems themselves you want to have it back," Mr Robinson said with small smile. "Joys of parenthood."

"I don't know a thing about joys of parenthood but I know a thing or two which godparenthood and grandparenthood have in common," Reid said with small smile. "Knowing that in the end you are handing the kids over to their parents and you can have your peace."

"Well spoken, doc," Mr Robinson chuckled. "That's the best part."

In overall it took Mr Robinson fifteen minutes to show Reid how to fold and unfold the stroller, change the position of the seats and generally make sure that the whole thing won't fall apart under Henry's and Rory's weight. In the meantime Mrs Robinson feed the hungry bunch, fixed them a snack for the trip and prepared a handbag with other useful things. She also provided a soccer ball for Zack and Jack and other knick-knacks while Molly made it to Cameron's place and back to pick up a change of clothes in case the merry bunch decided to get dirty on the way (most probably she had done so on Cameron's instructions).

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment which heralded the disaster. Perhaps it was ongoing battle between Henry and Rory about who will take the front seat until for the sake of his own sanity Reid placed Rory at the front seat, facing forward and Henry in the backseat facing rear and his not overly amused godfather and Zack and Jack who quickly realized that holding on the handle was a must (which didn't prevent them from making funny faces at Henry, who started giggling which lead to another stop, this time switch Rory's seat to face rear and Jack and Zack).

Molly hadn't given him problems at all. She swung small backpack which contained a blanket over her shoulder, took the leash with Clooney at the other end and kept walking by his side. At one point she turned into Reid's sanity saver by grabbing Zack's hand on a particularly crowded junction while Reid tried to maneuver the stroller together keeping Jack by his side (a battle promptly lost which ended with Jack riding piggy back to Jack's not overly hidden glee).

By the time they reached the gates Reid seriously started considering fainting from exhaustion until it occurred to him that the Robinsons had raised five kids within the same age difference as _The Berkeley-Hotchner Howling Band with LaMontage Backup_ if this particular detail was the fact and not a gossip and Mr Robinson had no problems whatsoever with taking his merry bunch to the zoo all on his own. If he could do that and be still amongst the living, and in quite splendid condition for a sixty-five years old, then so could Reid, aged thirty and with supposed physical training of every FBI field agent, supposed depending from the final review with the surgeon whatever or not his left leg deserved the title of wholly healed and if it did then he was facing full blown physical exam that included self-defense exam in three months.

It was a small miracle that his leg didn't start acting up yet. No sooner than when that thought occurred him 108 lbs (respectively 46 lbs of the stroller plus 32 lbs of Rory and 30 lbs of Henry) rolled down from the small bump on the path on his left small toe.

The rest was physics. He managed to swallow a curse but as he pushed the stroller away from his left foot he leaned a bit too much forward, not remembering that Jack was still seated over his shoulders and almost toppled over Reid's head into the stroller. The sudden realization that Jack was still on his shoulders made Reid straighten his back a bit too fast which ended with moving the centre of their gravity backwards which lead to particularly painful landing on the concrete path and even more painful meeting between his left foot and 108 lbs of a kid-filled stroller. What made it even more painful was that Jack, luckily for him with a very good instinct before he collapsed on the concrete backwards managed to grab on Reid's head which kept him still on Reid's shoulders that started aching.

It took him five minutes to pick himself from the ground after Molly helped Jack get off from his shoulders while she instructed Zack to push the stroller away. She managed to do it in less than a minute and the rest of that time Reid spent making the inventory of bruises and aching muscles he had and might be having at the later point of time while mentally bracing himself against the thought that they still didn't reach the zoo.

"Should I call a cab?" Molly asked sympathetically.

"And take a ride to GUH?" Reid grimaced. "I didn't break anything and I'm quite convinced that if Cameron would see me on ER again in less than four hours for the sake of my and yours safety she would put me on her ward for observation. She might probably end watching over you in the evening while I will attempt to guilty trip Eddie into squeezing me between clients."

"Who is Eddie?" Zack asked curiously.

"Chiropractor," Reid sighed.

"Who?" Zack looked at him quizzically.

"A doctor for sore back and muscles," Reid clarified.

"I'm sorry," Jack whispered.

"You have nothing to be sorry about Jack," Reid smiled at him. "And it was you who almost got hurt."

"Almost," Jack agreed. "You were hurt, I wasn't."

"I'm not hurt," Reid protested.

"But you are going to see a doctor for sore back and muscles," Jack pointed out.

"Because I think that I will be sore in the evening," Reid tried to convince Jack that everything was f… okay.

Jack, as Hotch's progeny after his father inherited the glare which he fixed on Reid and while on Hotch it was impressive and made the one on whom the glare was directed run a quick mental checklist of their deeds and misdeeds, with strong emphasis on the later on Jack it looked like a quite convincing pout which coupled with a slightly trembling lower lip made Reid pick himself up from the ground with a speed of a chased hare to scoop up Jack into his arms to hold him tightly against his chest.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Uncle Spencer," Jack whispered.

"You didn't," Reid reassured him. "It was the path… and gravity."

Jack who in the meantime managed to wrap his arms around Reid's neck and hooked his legs around Reid's torso pulled away from the juncture between Reid's left shoulder and neck just enough to look at him curiously as he asked, "Gravity?"

Reid was about to enter lecture mode when it occurred to him that he could explain the theory, sure, except he could simplify it to high school level but simplifying it to Jack's level took a moment of thinking.

"Have you ever throw a ball up into the air, Jack?" Reid asked finally.

Jack nodded quickly.

"And what happened then?" Reid continued.

"It went up and then it fell down," Jack said simply.

"That was gravity," Reid said simply. "Gravity is a force that keeps things and people…" gravitating was not the word he should use to break the whole concept to Jack, "coming back to the ground. Like when you jump you land because of the gravity, same with throwing things into the air…"

"So if there wasn't gravity people could fly," Jack said pensively.

"Pretty much so," Reid agreed and made a mental note to find the movie from landing on the moon to show to Jack.

"That sucks," Jack grimaced.

"Not really," Reid shook his head. "Gravity is important. Can you imagine how boring it would be if everybody could fly? Not to mention that it would be very crowded, there would be a lot of bumping into people…"

"Why?" Jack asked curiously.

"Because mother nature hadn't given us wings," Reid said simply. "That's why birds can fly and we can't unless we are using some kind of a machine to do so, like a plane or helicopter."

"What about parachute?" Zack asked curiously. "People fly with parachutes."

"People fall down with a parachute, Zack," Reid corrected the boy. "They are falling down because of the gravity and the parachute is constructed in a way which slows down the fall so people can land safely otherwise if they didn't have a parachute they would splatter on the ground."

Zack nodded slowly.

"Hens don't fly," Jack pointed out.

'Get yourself out of **this**, genius,' Reid groaned mentally.

"They have wings and they don't fly," Jack clarified.

"Because when God was giving birds the ability to fly the hen was too busy gossiping with ostrich to take a place in line," Molly offered quickly. "That's why the rest of the birds fly and hen and ostrich don't."

"That's silly," Jack grimaced.

"Not really," Reid smiled. "They are just built this way, Jack. An ostrich has too small and too weak wings to fly and is way too heavy to fight off gravity and to start flying. And hens… well a lot of people have different opinions about why they don't fly, mostly because they are built in a way which prevents them from flying but I'd meet many different opinions other than this one and most of them are not worth repeating."

"They aren't very bright either," Molly interjected.

"And they are food," Reid nodded.

"Pigs are food too," Zack said.

"Piglets are cute," Rory proclaimed.

"Pigs are omnivores," Reid stated as he quickly tried to shake off the memory of the farm in Sarnia, Ontario.

"What's an omnivore?" Zack asked.

"It means that they can eat anything," Reid clarified with a grimace. "And by anything I mean anything."

"An old shoe too?" Zack asked curiously.

"Err… not really but the fill up of the shoe sure," Reid said grimly.

"Pigs eat people?" Jack asked skeptically. "Yuck."

"Yuck indeed," Reid agreed wholeheartedly. "Let's not talk about the pigs."

_Cretin_, he made a mental note, _you just couldn't stop yourself from bringing it up_.

"But why?" Zack asked curiously. "Why pigs eat people?"

"Revenge," Reid coughed. "People eat pigs, pigs are omnivores so in certain circumstances pigs have absolutely no problems with eating people… Of course most people are able to outrun pigs so that's not a problem, it starts being a problem when a person isn't able to run away from pigs."

"Was it a case?" Molly asked pensively.

"Of what?" Reid asked quickly.

"Uncle Aaron doesn't eat pork," Molly clarified. "Mum once said that he used to at some point but then he stopped. You work with uncle Aaron and you go on the cases together."

"There was a case and that's all I'm going to say about it. I don't think that since that case anyone on the team would willingly eat pork. Besides pork as a meat rots easily…"

"How many?" Molly asked pointedly.

"How many what?" Reid grimaced. "Eighty-nine in seven years."

"That's sick," Molly flinched. "One, two even could be an accident but eighty-nine… How sick one can get?"

"But it's not their fault right?" Zack asked pensively. "They are sick so they cannot be blamed."

"That's not how it works Zacky," Reid sighed. "Some people are very, very sick in their heads and their minds function differently than minds of other people. As long as people like that don't hurt anyone it's a no problem but some hurt people or do bad things to not necessarily bad people. That's why they need to be caught before they would harm more people. You see we don't get to chose things we are born with but we DO chose how to act, what to do and what not. That's what makes people different from animals, the will to chose our actions and the strength to stop ourselves from taking them."

"And that's why you and Uncle Aaron catch people like that and Aunt Kate works with them," Zack said eagerly. "So they can't hurt any more people."

"Not exactly," Reid grimaced. "Cameron is a doctor that takes care of mentally ill people but she doesn't deal with this kind of patients, Zacky. There are different doctors who deal with very sick people that do bad things to others. They work in different kinds of hospitals than Cameron does."

"Why?" Jack asked.

"That hospital where Cameron works is a hospital for everybody. Everyone can get treated in there for various illness, mental illness amongst them. People who are very sick in their minds require a different hospital, separated from other people and heavily guarded for the sake of other people," Reid clarified.

"Like a prison," Jack said pensively.

"They are very much like prisons," Reid agreed. "But not all psychiatric hospitals are prison-like. It depends a lot from the kind of patients the hospital takes. If they are a danger to other people then the hospital is prison-like, if they aren't… well then the hospital is more open to visitors and accepts long term patients as well as short term patients."

"What they are like?" Jack asked curiously.

Boy, kid's curiosity knew no bounds and why the two of them insisted on having this kind of a discussion he didn't know. What he did know was that he was sure as hell unfit to be the person they talked about mental illness with and that was not only because of the job.

"What?" Reid tried to play dumb.

"Hospitals for people with sick minds," Jack clarified.

"And you know them all too well," Molly interjected.

"I don't," Reid protested.

"Schizophrenia," Molly said pointedly. "You had no problems with observing how Cameron was stitching your arms until that point, you looked away way too fast and you didn't look back until we started discussing red hair."

"It got nasty, I had to take a break," Reid said simply.

"You are avoiding," Molly pointed out.

"You are insisting," Reid grumbled.

"Close relative," Molly muttered.

"Mum?" Jack asked innocently as he looked at Reid with his big brown eyes.

"Profilers," Reid groaned. "And it wasn't a compliment."

"That was yes to both if I ever saw one," Molly said pointedly.

"Aren't you too curious for your own good?" Reid asked pointedly. "Look around, we are close to zoo on a bright, sunny and warm Saturday morning and instead of talking about nice things we talk about mental illnesses. And I'm not even mentioning the riot act your parents are going to deliver to me for discussing this subject."

"Is she fine?" Jack asked quietly as he wrapped his arms around Reid's neck a little tighter.

"Who?" Reid pretended to play dumb again.

"Your mum," Jack clarified.

"She is sick, Jack," Reid sighed in defeat. "She is with doctors that are helping her and she is taken care of because she isn't able to take care of herself. Her hospital is like a big hotel where one can stay for a very long time. She has her own room, her favorite things and the doctors and nurses are taking care of things she can't do on her own. She gets medication that keeps her stabilized…"

"But she isn't going to get better," Zack said quietly.

"No," Reid admitted quietly.

Miraculously, and as a scientist he didn't believe in miracles but it was one of the things that came close to the actual description of a miracle, his admission about his mum's sickness had won him utter compliance from Zack and Jack that kept them in close vicinity of the stroller (or holding onto it if the space allowed for it) which was good because the pair in the stroller started getting fussy and he had to switch the seats several times before Henry and Rory decided that this time they preferred to face each other.

The rest of the trip to the zoo was uneventful, nice, slightly funny when Jack and Zack started making imitations of various animals which prompted Henry and Rory to parrot them but other than that uneventful… _much_… at least to the kids.

It didn't hit him, at least until getting inside of the Reptile Discovery Centre that Cameron's statement about not being single male in early thirties with five kids and a dog taking a trip to the zoo had a deeper meaning than signaling that he won't manage to keep them in line.

But **it did have** a deeper meaning, in depths understandable only to someone who possessed XX chromosomes and ovaries and not to the single, socially awkward owner of XY chromosomes. It was then when he made a mental note to implore death threats next time he asked her for an advice and to back them up with his chemistry dissertation.

On intellectual level he knew that he could be considered as an attractive male in slightly geeky and mellowed sort of way, thanks to more than one outing with Garcia, Emily and Morgan, and in pre-Henry era also JJ.

More than once he had to remind himself that he loved the obnoxious lot dearly even if they made the point of their lives to use each outing to embarrass him and poke fun at his social awkwardness (while trying to have him get over it to hit on an attractive specimen of a female sex) because if he didn't he would put into action all plots which had him getting even for every single humiliation he endured during this outings.

Humiliations varied, so did the plots for revenge. One time when he almost worked up his courage to buy a drink to a nice librarian which he meet at GWU and was about to approach her when Morgan (supposedly by accident) spilled a pint of beer on him. The plot of revenge involved sleeping pills and shipping Morgan off to Stebbins, Alaska just in his underwear.

Revenge plan of less drastic proportions was designed for Garcia for setting him up on a blind date with a transvestite she'd meet at an optic shop which explained why she was so strongly convinced that _Samantha_ was a woman when she really wasn't. Being equally vision challenged as she was but unlike her wearing contacts at all times in addition to being a profiler when she wasn't he managed to discover the deception in three minutes flat (would happen sooner if it wasn't for annoyingly dim lights at the pub) which in turn lead him to dropping a pint of beer on himself to make a hasty retreat home.

Chaperoning Emily to in total two galas (more precisely keeping her from committing a murder on one or two not overly bright heirs of the old families) lead him to plain conclusion that he hated politics and no amount of begging, blackmailing and bribery from Emily would convince him to agree for the third. The men bored him sick and the women were either out of his league or yipped like a Chihuahua about clothes, cosmetics and things he preferred to not ask about for the sake of his sanity.

As for JJ, he respected her too much to accept the dates with various colleagues she tried to introduce to him after their first and never mentioned afterwards date.

They all made sure that he knew that he wasn't hopeless case even if his dating history pointed to the contrary. They riled in him that if he was a bit more bolder and more relaxed he could charm any woman he wanted.

That he attracted them without it he didn't know… until between watching a boa and the collection of vipers he realized that someone was staring at him for quite some time… and intently on that.

Sly turn around had him quickly scan the crowd for the stalker, analyze the type and arriving to the conclusion that he was a sitting duck. No wedding band, surrounded by five kids that didn't bear any resemblance to him whatsoever and with a dog.

Dirty blonde with most probably green eyes, in a type of average built and height. She looked like she was pushing forty and had this kind of desperate look on her face that had him realize that somewhere between the entrance and the reptiles she managed not only to spot him in the crowd but most probably had everything planned, from the wedding to the names of future grandchildren.

That was new and damn Cameron for not warning him in more clarifying manner that with five kids and a dog and without a wedding band he was making himself a magnet for desperate single women.

"It's not humiliating you know," Molly declared suddenly.

"What?" Reid coughed.

"Being a housewife," Molly shrugged. "Dad."

Reid grinned inwardly. Molly was a genius and a true lifesaver.

"I don't mind being a housewife, Honeypie," he said calmly. "Philosophy doesn't pay well and someone needs to keep us out of debts…"

"Out…" Molly sighed dramatically.

"At the very least not in very deep debts," he cleared his throat. "We still have a house and the car."

"Three bedrooms?" Molly said pointedly. "I don't mind but with the twins about to be born soon it will be really crowded."

Jack was eyeing them curious through the better part of the conversation and decided to cut in, "But grandma would be coming too."

"Aunt Wilhelmina also promised visiting," Zack added.

"See everything will work itself out," Reid nodded eagerly and as he stopped to bend down and pick up Jack to have him ride piggy back he took a quick look around.

The blonde found herself another object of fixation. After all unemployed father of seven in debts wasn't the best husband material.

"She's gone," he sighed in relief before he placed Jack on his shoulders. "You are adorable bunch of schemers you know."

"You looked like you needed a way out," Molly said simply. "But that," she moved her head in the direction the blonde disappeared, "is exactly what the desperate ones are doing. How do you think the coward of the year had meet his match?"

"At zoo?" Reid asked skeptically.

"Carnival," Molly grimaced. "Day after he lost his wedding band in the bathroom. You should buy one to use it as a scarecrow."

"I don't think that it would work all the time," Reid grimaced.

"Not all the time but there should be less of them," Molly said pensively. "Crap, another one…" she added grimly and after a deep breath proclaimed loudly, "But I want a new bike Daddy… every girl in class has a pink bike except me."

"I want a bike too," Jack and Zack declared in unison.

God they learned cues easily.

"Blue," Jack declared.

Zack followed quickly with, "Green."

"Yellow!" Rory declared happily.

"White," Henry agreed with general motion.

Maybe they learned way too fast.

So it went on and on. He wasn't as socially oblivious as he was taken for by the rest of the team, at times a quirky comment here and there warranted a clarification of the pattern he observed and at times it had given him the freedom to not participate in one or two discussions he didn't want to be a part of.

Molly turned out to be a quite awesome pattern reader of her own kind and once she started a notion Zack and Jack followed her dramatic act on a cue and if it lasted longer than a minute Henry and Rory added comments on their own.

Watching them was a great fun.

Then the less funny part begun. Return home.

Reid loved public transport and the freedom it gave him. The freedom of reading and observing people, two activities he liked the best. But even his love for public transport had its limits.

The limit was the bus rides, first in L2 and then in D2 lines to Georgetown. Forty minutes of pure hell. Getting into the first bus was quite a challenge. First making sure that Jack, Zack and Molly with Clooney entered it, then pushing the stroller in and then making sure that the kids had their tickets validated and making sure through the whole ride to Dupont Circle that no one stomped upon them, that Clooney (muzzled) didn't try to sniff other passengers in no-no places (and it took Reid five minutes of the ride to discover that on some people no-no places were everywhere). Even more challenging was keeping vertical position. But nothing grated more on his nerves than the Cow, how Molly sweetly christened the last in the line to the mother of the year award.

The Cow and her six months old baby boarded the bus at the next stop. Reid was too busy trying to will the crying baby into silence that he didn't concentrate on roughly establishing whatever or not the kid was boy or girl because what mattered to him the most was that the baby had a very healthy set of lungs and apparently deaf to its cries mother, who wasn't completely deaf because she spend whole ride chattering with her friend over the phone.

"Whatever the cost," Molly muttered grimly by Reid's side, opposite to the mother. "Cow."

"Officially it's called narcissistic disorder," Reid clarified. "And that," he motioned with his head at the chattering woman whose chatter became even more annoying, "is the reason why contraception exists."

"Latin still exists too," Molly said pointedly. "And it's supposedly dead."

"Some people still use it," Reid said simply and then looked sideways at the mother. "Other things too."

_Contraception, pacifiers, earplugs, social services, sexual education… and on and on and on._

The ride on D2 line was less annoying when it came to assaults on the hearing because he was the only stroller on board and Rory and Henry simply nodded off but unfortunately he encountered Mrs Good Advice.

Mrs Good Advice was known to every passenger on D2 line and if wishes were coming true then she would be dead for at the very least twenty years if not more or she would be a medical curiosum that lived in spite of multiple, going in hundreds of thousands sad ends fellow passengers over the years planned for her.

Reid, profiler and pattern reader had her figured out within one ride and after that he learned to carry an MP3 player through the entire bus ride. It didn't matter if he was in mood for listening to music or not what mattered was silencing off Mrs Good Advice.

On a relatively short ride she managed to advise the old lady next to her on ten separate and completely different things. Best drycleaner, best restaurant, best gynecologist, worst hairdresser ever, the most cancerous ready-made dinner, the slimmest piece of (Reid motioned at the kids to cover their ears) shit that called herself a florist (and he heard that one about thirty times), the best chocolate cupcakes, the worst salad, the weirdest book (_Crime and Punishment_, he disagreed but he read much worse and he actually liked that book) and the most efficient post office.

When they finally left the bus he was wholly and completely exhausted and wanted nothing more than to come back home, put the kids in front of TV and to collapse on the couch.

But his dreams of rest had died a painful death in few minutes when he reached the crossing where Winfield Lane NW connected with 35th Street NW.

His house wasn't situated very close to the crossing but from his drive he could see 35th Street NW and from the north side of the crossing between Winfield Lane and 35th Street he could see his drive or rather more specifically the front steps to his house.

"Why we stopped, Uncle Spencer?" Zack asked tiredly.

"I'm contemplating," Reid admitted stiffly.

"What exactly?" Molly asked curiously.

"Calling Hotch and pulling immediate field consultation in Anchorage and asking if I can take you all with me," Reid added grimly.

"He would say no," Molly grimaced. "Though it would be funny to visit Alaska. But seriously what brought it on."

"Spawns of Satan," Reid said quickly. "Riders of Apocalypse. Scarier than every bad guy from a horror movie and a bunch of starved pigs combined. Seriously I'd rather face a disorganized psychopath on psychotic break who wields an ax in one hand and a sword in the other because I have better chances for survival with him than with them."

"Seriously?" Molly asked skeptically. "They look normal."

"They are skilled in the art of deception," Reid snorted grimly. "Don't let that innocent air of normalcy deceive you they are worse than every natural disaster on earth combined. They are nothing but a destruction, blood and debts… and yes even this supposed innocent cuteness…"

"What's wrong with him?" he heard Cameron's calm voice from behind his back.

"We were coming back home after zoo, we got off from the bus and walked here. Then he stopped and started muttering," Molly clarified. "Who's that?"

"Cynthia," Cameron said simply. "Reid," she tapped his left arm. "What's wrong?"

He turned his head just enough to look at her and saw that she had a kid in a carrier wrapped around her chest and a shopping bag in her other hand.

"Yours?" he asked skeptically.

"At the moment. My question now," Cameron shook her head. "You don't usually stand at the crossing like a scarecrow. What's wrong?"

"They are," Reid pointed at the crowd by his door. "They are completely wrong. Far too close to my liking. I'd rather turn into a statue than face them… or migrate to South Pole or Himalaya…"

"That's okay," Cameron said calmly. "Who are they?"

"The Reids," Reid muttered.

"It's a quite popular surname," Cameron pointed out.

"Trust me, they are THE Reids," Reid snorted. "I know every single…" Cameron put her free hand over his mouth to stop him from cursing but quickly lowered it so he could finish, "son of the Corinthian daughter or daughter of thereof and I can tell you everything about them starting from full name and ending on shoe size. How I'm supposed to make it past them without actually making it past them and thus preventing any interaction… They are worse than vultures… They are omnivores… the force of mass destruction, the bane of my existence…"

"Sounds like close relatives," Molly said behind his back.

"If by close you are taking into consideration shared ancestry…" Reid started. "That's it I'm doomed, somehow I managed to piss off every deity known to human kind and this is my penalty…"

"For someone supposedly rational and grounded you have a curious dramatic streak," Cameron said pointedly.

"You don't know them, I do," Reid muttered.

"If you get any louder they would come to inspect the source of the noise," Cameron said simply.

He closed his mouth. Having them approach him was the last thing he needed.

And he still didn't know how to get inside his house without passing past them and not alarming them to his presence.

"Where is Harry Potter with his invisibility cloak when you need him," he groaned.

"Because the front door opening on their own volition wouldn't raise suspicions," Cameron muttered.

* * *

><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>

_Next chapter: The lengths Reid would go through to avoid the plague that infests his stairs. The backstory of the Reid family and the list of reasons why Reid prefers disorganized psychopath on a psychotic break than meeting his relatives. Plus the actual B&E into Reid's home without having the horror on the front steps noticing it. And there will be some other torture which at the moment I'm bouncing against the wall and watching what would come back, small teaser: one of these things you can't say no to._


	7. Chapter 7: The Reids

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

_Chapter summary: Reid talks about his family. Originally it was longer but the chapter was begging to be be cut in the middle. Enjoy... and don't kill me. Pretty please, at least read the author's note at the bottom before you would decide to kill me._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter seven: The Reids.<strong>

"Twelve people, that's not a very big family," Cameron commented.

"You think that just because you don't see sixteen kids that by my assumption are sitting in the cars," Reid snorted.

"Sixteen?" Cameron asked skeptically.

"If not more," Reid added grimly. "From the distance judging by the parents there should be sixteen. Tess, Missy, Leslie, Chad, Lars, Agnes, Betty, Cora, Ruth, Rose, Lily, Tulip, Calia, Mint and Mira. Though age-wise I can probably cross off Tess, Missy and Leslie because they are old enough to be left to their own devices back in Colorado."

"That's big," Molly interjected.

"Not really," Reid grimaced. "My grandfather had three wives and twelve sons. My father was the oldest, that gluteus maximus in yellow t-shirt is the youngest and by the time he was born my father was old enough to father him. In fact the canary over there was born in the same year as I. The only difference is that I was born in Las Vegas, Nevada in October and he was born in Brunswick, Georgia in December."

"Cool," Zack beamed. "Being older than your uncle I mean."

"Not really," Reid snorted. "The family is very extended and out of the whole twelve only four of my uncles turned out to be the people I can safely call family without worrying that they will embarrass me beyond the measures of human comprehension. Them I acknowledge as family members which in return gives me five cousins, four alive ones and two first cousins once removed, not to mention four great aunts."

"Why only four of them?" Molly asked curiously.

"Grandmothers," Reid sighed. "Who they were reflected heavily on the whole family and funnily enough my grandfather had four sons with each of them. They had taken after their mothers. Bitter, snobbish and cowardly after the first; levelheaded, hardworking and open-minded after the second; irresponsible and generally…" he hung his voice to stop himself from swearing, "after the third. I can tell you more if you want but it will be **after** I will figure out how to get inside without them noticing that I'm home. Because if I'm lucky they might go away, if not… you can start sending the notifications about my funeral."

Suddenly he realized that Cameron swiftly maneuvered the stroller out of his hands and started walking away.

"Hey, where are you going?" he protested.

"Home," she said simply as she turned around to face him.

"With Henry and Rory?" he asked skeptically.

"With the whole bunch," Cameron shrugged. "Your family doesn't know about them. Right?"

"They don't. That's fine, but what I'm supposed to do?" he protested. "Spurt wings and fly over them?"

"How about using what you have at your disposal?" Cameron offered.

"Kids?" Reid stared at her.

"Why not?" Molly smiled. "If they hadn't seen you in a while and you changed a lot since their last visit if you will use Jack as a shield they might not even realize that you are home, or at the very least in close surroundings."

"It's too close," Reid grimaced.

"Between your front door and my front door there are two garages and correct me if I'm wrong the cars of the merry bunch are standing by the McKinley's drive and further," Cameron said pointedly.

"If they will catch me…" Reid started.

It was incredibly risky idea but far more easier to put into action than digging a tunnel or climbing over the backyard wall and at the very least this part had all the kids rounded up in a place where they could eat late lunch and hide from Reid's private horror.

"Just wait until I will get inside," Cameron said.

He waited patiently, hiding behind the Robertson's SUV until Cameron with Molly's help maneuvered the stroller into her hall before he scooped Jack up and using him as a shield he made the beeline to the front door of Cameron's house.

He let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding only after he locked the front door with two locks.

"Great, what now," he muttered.

"Depends," Cameron said simply from her living-room. "If you are having noisy activities in mind I strongly suggest avoiding entering home until your family would go away and that I think would depend from the level of their stubbornness."

"The level of their stubbornness should end around eight o'clock in the evening," Reid muttered. "Most of them have small kids though if I'm lucky they might be gone by six o'clock."

"If?" Cameron asked skeptically.

"They are the Reids and the only thing the whole family has in common is bullheaded stubbornness," Reid shook his head. "If I'm less lucky coming back home would require breaking in and entering the house from the backyard."

"Alarm system?" Cameron asked pointedly.

"Not armed," Reid said simply. "Electricity was down when I left the house in the morning. No electricity, no alarm."

"Late lunch?" Cameron offered.

"Thank you, gladly, you need a hand?" he sighed.

"With frozen lasagna?" Cameron shrugged. "Not really."

"Something I'm supposed to do?" he asked simply.

"Nothing, make yourself at home, I'll be right back," she shook her head.

He went to the bathroom to wash his hands and to make sure that the kids did too before he wandered into the living-room and flopped on the couch with a heavy sigh.

With the disaster that was sudden and unwelcomed family reunion temporarily averted and hopefully for good on that at the moment he had nothing to worry about. Except of listing the reasons why he avoided most of his relatives like a plague.

"So?" Molly asked curiously as she sat down on the floor by the coffee table. "What's the story?"

"With the family?" Reid grimaced. "Longer than The Bold and Beautiful and even more complicated."

"Story," Jack said eagerly. "Please, tell us, Uncle Spencer."

Zack nodded eagerly and sat down next to Molly. Jack sat down on her other side and Henry and Rory flopped on the ground next to the boys.

To make it even worse Cameron walked into the room with a tray full of glasses with iced tea and two iced coffees, behind her into the room, very shyly, walked in the brown-haired girl Cameron introduced as Cynthia. When Cameron settled down the tray on the coffee table and sat down on the armchair the girl climbed into her lap and looked at him with her big, open, brown eyes.

That was weird, the whole idea itself was weird and he needed clarification about what _'at the moment'_ meant but first he had to satisfy the curiosity of the five expectant listeners so he shook his head, took a sip of iced coffee and sighed.

"It would be the best to start from the beginning," he admitted. "The Reid family itself has English-Scottish origins but the particular branch from which my family descends wasn't very devoted to staying on English soil. One of my great-great-great grandfathers was completely fascinated with Germany and because by trade he made perfumes so quite eagerly he moved his family to Cologne, Germany, famous for the perfumes. My great-grandfather, Martin, from whom the whole story starts was educated to become a Lutheran pastor to take over the parish in Neunkirchen after his own father, Franz. He was his only son, quite early orphaned and was destined to marry the daughter of a fellow pastor from another parish."

"Did he?" Molly asked eagerly.

"Obviously he didn't," Reid smiled quickly. "If he did I wouldn't be telling that story. Also in Neunkirchen lived quite big population of Jews. The Rabbi from Neunkirchen had four daughters. The rumor had it that each was more beautiful than the other and his youngest, barely sixteen years old daughter, Ruth Rubinstein was the prettiest girl in town. Martin, wanting to have Lutheranism and Judaism coexisting in the town in peace and also enjoying the discussions with Rabbi Rubinstein visited their house often… Maybe even too often because one day Franz discovered that his only son had disappeared and so did Ruth Rubinstein."

"They ran away together, that's romantic," Molly sighed.

"And that's when the whole story starts," Reid continued. "Franz wasn't very happy with Martin's marriage and Martin and Ruth had to escape from Germany and quickly on that. It was in times when the first world war was almost upon the doorstep and Martin, wanting to keep his wife and his future children safe made a decision to abandon Europe altogether and to move to America. After all a Lutheran pastor was always needed even with as little experience as he had but he also had quite extensive knowledge so he quickly found new home in America, Georgia to be exact and to be more precise and not to mention ironic, in Reidsville."

Cameron snorted into her iced coffee and the kids grinned.

"Together they brought up eight of their kids. Abraham, Benjamin, William, Agnes, Caroline, Michelle, Zacharias and Spencer. The oldest three had joined the army and died in the second world's war. Agnes and Caroline died from pneumonia long before the war. Michelle, to my knowledge one day left home and never came back and no one knew what became of her. As for Zacharias… he had a serious drinking problem which he hid so well that his family didn't realize that he was drinking until they found him completely passed out on the street."

"Which leaves Spencer," Molly said pensively.

"Yeah, Spencer is the fellow I plan to introduce to you better," Reid nodded. "Unlike his brothers he didn't have higher aspirations to pursue law or theology or medicine. He was a down to earth man who believed in old fashioned work and quite early realized that he wanted to be a carpenter and that was the career he pursued. He lived from building wooden houses all over the country. His first wife Belinda, the clerk from local shop, he married early and under duress because my father was about to be born and my great-grandfather, an old man of weak health by that time, was insisting on performing the wedding and christening."

"Sounds nice," Cameron interjected. "The idea I mean."

"Well, he did perform both ceremonies except nothing good became of it," Reid snorted. "From what I learned it wasn't a match made in heaven and the two of them argued a lot. Finally grandpa threatened her with a divorce, she got angry, then drunk, got into the car and ran into a tree. Instantaneous death, he blamed himself for her death through the rest of his life, but quite seriously I don't think he should. She wasn't an angel and grandpa's fatherhood with the younger two was questioned on more than one occasion."

"That's sad," Zack sighed.

"It was," Reid sighed. "My father, William, was six at that time, Todd was five, Nolan was two years old, the youngest of the four of them, Colbert was barely two months old. Grandpa Spencer was twenty-four then. Twenty-four, recently widowed and with four small kids. Not exactly a splendid match for anyone. Luckily enough he was quite renowned carpenter and his boss dispatched him to Salt Lake City, Utah where finding job was easier. So he packed his merry bunch and moved to Utah. That's where he'd meet Cynthia."

"Cynthia…" he started pensively. "She was one of a kind and if I can be sure of anything is that they loved each other dearly. Cynthia was a teacher at local elementary school but her parents had a farm and she wasn't afraid of the hard work and devoting herself to the family. Grandpa Spencer was young and quite attractive man with great sense of humor and possessed varied knowledge not only needed in building houses but also other things and he was insatiably curious. That's a quality he had shared with Cynthia and their mutual friendship quickly turned into marriage. When he was working Cynthia stayed home at the farm outside the town, took care of the animals and brought up, at first my father and his brothers and quite quickly the four sons she gave birth to at the beginning of their marriage."

"How big was the age difference between them?" Molly asked curiously.

"Not very big," Reid said simply. "My father was born in 1954, Todd in 1955, Nolan in 1958, Colbert in 1960. David, his fifth and Cynthia's first son was born in 1962, the twins Toby and Tim were born in 1963 and finally Spencer Martin was born in 1964. Everybody calls him Spartin," he smiled fondly. "See? That's what happens when you have to share a name with family members."

"How they called you?" Jack asked curiously.

"Saw," Reid coughed.

"Why?" Zack frowned.

"Because my father thought that it would be great to name me fully after my grandfather," Reid snorted. "And my mum agreed because she liked my grandpa, his first and second name and supposedly a name after the parent gives a kid good luck."

"Spencer William," Cameron nodded pensively. "Adam?"

"Nope," Reid shook his head. "Spencer Aaron William."

"Niiice," Cameron summed up with a drawl.

"Your point being?" he eyed her curiously.

"Dispenser of provisions, mountain of strength, will helmet, protection. Your parents had height expectations from you," Cameron said simply.

"Sure enough pure torture, God is gracious on that," Reid snorted.

"Let's not forget the lioness," Cameron snorted.

"Leonarda?" Reid asked cheekily.

"Close but off the mark," Cameron muttered. "Leona."

"Your parents weren't exactly easy on you either," Reid pointed out.

"You are kidding," Cameron snorted. "I got off easily, at the very least by the time I was born they gave upon the idea of having a son. My older sisters were named Emerson and Allison and in the pool of family quirks each of us got Jane for the second name because apparently that was the tradition in my mum's family. But we aren't talking about my family so go on."

"Where I was…" Reid frowned and quickly recalled where he stopped. "Uncle Spartin was born in 1964 and Augustus was born in 1977 which means…" he did the quick math in his head. "Grandpa Spencer and Cynthia married in 1961 and they remained together until her sudden death in 1975, they were so devoted to one another and so devoted to the family that if it wasn't for cancer I'm convinced that they would be still married for years to come. For some reasons, I never asked why but I suspect that it was because he was old enough to understand a thing or two from grandpa's and Belinda's fights, my father wasn't exactly fond of Cynthia and he fled home as soon as he was eighteen, shortly after he was joined by Todd, who listened in almost everything to him. Except when my father fixated himself on studying law Todd fled to Vegas to use life… and he used life extensively. He used it so well that he ended marrying a bartender from one of the many bars in town and in rapid succession they had the Alphabet."

"The Alphabet?" Jack asked skeptically.

"Adam born in 1973, Brian in 1974, Chris in 1975, Dirk in 1976 and Ed in 1977," Reid clarified. "But by the time I was born Todd took his wife and those five horrors to Colorado Springs where they alternatively milked the system between making the ends meet. Adam and Ed together with their wives and possibly kids are camped out by my door."

"Nice cousins?" Molly asked curiously.

"If you define locking a three years old in a barn as nice then sure they were," Reid snorted. "They had also done worse things. Thanks to them I'm mortally scared of darkness after all these time. All five of them are as bad as their papa. The only difference is that while Adam turned into a bum like his papa the other four turned into snobs full of bitterness. What they actually have in common is selfishness and narcissistic disorder on various levels."

"Lovely family you have," Cameron grimaced.

"And I didn't finish yet," Reid said sourly. "I'd never meet Nolan because he and his wife and their son Tim had died in a fire about a year before I was born and last time I knew something about Colbert he was with his wife Lisa in Australia, they don't have children on their own, luckily, for the children I mean. But that's not all of them because shortly after Cynthia died grandpa Spencer fell prey to the spoiled daughter of one of the local businessmen…"

"Businessmen?" Cameron asked skeptically.

"That's the official version," Reid snorted. "Less official version says that she was the daughter of the local…" he made a tale-telling sign of cutting of his head, then he frowned because somehow this part of the family story contained a curious by his surname FBI agent. "Daddy-in-law was actually shot in Chicago about a year after their youngest was born."

"It's supposed to be sad?" Molly asked skeptically.

"Not really," Reid shook his head. "Just curious," he admitted and the clarified. "He was shot by an FBI agent from local field office, he was named Jack Cameron if I remember Agnes's curses under his address correctly."

"Good riddance," Cameron said sweetly. "Tommy Turncoat I mean."

Reid smirked, "How do you know his name?"

"Because Agnes Reid, nee Turncoat loved to send letters under Jack Cameron's office address," Cameron shrugged. "Spelling wasn't her strongest suit. Whole Chicago's field office was rolling with laughter when he once presented first to his unit and then to his other colleagues the threat and it's a quote: you wil dye you dic."

Reid couldn't help it and he howled with laughter almost chocking on his coffee.

"You know what's the best part?" Cameron continued. "He always said that a good fed always takes death threats seriously and takes preventive measures," she added seriously. "And he was a good fed so he dyed his hair."

Reid howled with laughter again and between snickers he choked out, "Relative?"

"Yep," Cameron nodded. "My dad. But for now we are getting away from the subject at hand which is Grandma Agnes," she added quickly.

"Some grandma she was," Reid coughed. "No grandma whatsoever. But…" he hung his voice and concentrated on data. "Agnes married grandpa Spencer in 1976 and she gave birth to Augustus in 1977, Justin in 1978, Gareth in 1979 and finally to Jonah the Canary in 1981."

"Interesting uncles," Molly commented.

"Come to think about it if you think that Todd and the Alphabet are bad then you didn't meet Augustus, Justin, Gareth and Jonah. Their wives are even worse, well aside of Laura who had enough of common sense to bully Justin into moving to her family in France and now she is in control and he isn't, good for him. Other than that Augustus, Gareth and Jonah are definition of irresponsibility and conformism. Neither was able to hold a stable job for too long and their idea of parenting ends on participating in conception, at least for Gareth and Jonah and they are actually good with that, participating in conception I mean. Gareth, once to triplets at the age of eighteen called Agnes, Betty and Cora respectively. And Jonah… that one is quite a player, he has Rose, Lily, Tulip, Mint, Calia, Mira and Ruth. The oldest was born when he was nineteen in 2000 and the youngest was born in 2009."

"Not much of a player if the mother is the same," Cameron interjected.

"She is and she was desperate, trust me," Reid said sourly. "Actually I was introduced to grandma," he made quote marks with his fingers while he said grandma, "Agnes thanks to him and if it wasn't for some prankster in admission office I wouldn't even know that my grandfather had more than eight sons."

"I smell blood in the water," Cameron muttered.

"There was blood," Reid grimaced. "Mostly mine. At the age of nineteen I was in my last year at Cal-Tech. Note that I already had a PhD under my belt and I was on a good way to get another two. Then along came Jonah and he turned my last year at Cal-Tech into pure hell. Starting from the fact that admission gave him a room next to mine. He messed with anyone, trust me there wasn't a person on the campus he didn't manage to offend and unfortunately that vermin is the only one from the four that took his looks after the Reids, the rest looks like Turncoats. Being in the same age and sharing genes with him was a horror. At the age of nineteen, growing states apart, we looked very much the same, in fact he looked like my twin back then."

"And he was lucky and you weren't and you ended receiving everything he deserved," Cameron summed up.

"More or less. He still looks like me," Reid said grimly. "After serious brainwashing… and then some," he cringed. "That isn't the worst. The worst is that he and Gareth somehow got into their heads that I owe them what my father had taken away from them… At the very least I owe them lending them without a chance to ever see them again, money, hospitality… private possessions. I fell for it once, I fell for it twice, after the second time I learned to pretend that I wasn't home. After all I'm a genius I bring home coconuts…"

"Seriously?" Jack asked curiously.

"Figuratively. It means that I make good money," Reid snorted. "I do, in overall, but not as big as the idiot assumes I do and I'm disinclined to support the bottomless pit that he is, he is already milking the system, he doesn't have to milk me."

"You didn't talk much about the middle four," Cameron said pointedly.

"Because I wanted to leave the pleasant part for the end," Reid said simply. "From all of my eleven uncles, nine that I'd meet, the only people I willingly remain in contact with are actually Dave, Toby, Tim and Spartin, with their wives and kids. Avoiding Todd and the Alphabet was easy because Todd always supported my father so when my father left me and my mum when I was ten Todd cut off all contact altogether, he wasn't very fond of my mother either… And with Nolan dead and Colbert who knows where, with grandpa dead and Agnes acting as if we didn't exist even though later I managed to find out that she knew that we were living in Vegas while they were living in Redding, California, not that far away…"

He grimaced. He disliked admitting to failures and great and supportive family or not what he was about to say in some way was his personal failure.

"When he was still around my father plainly ignored the existence of the middle four. I knew that he had other brothers than Todd but I hardly meet them. But my mum did and she remembered that one of dad's brothers, and one of the kind ones lived relatively close, in St George, Utah. At the age of twelve I was finishing high school and looking for colleges and at first I was considering only those in immediate area so I could remain with mum." He paused and shook his head before he continued, "Those two years since dad left… they weren't easy on us, in any shape or form, especially financially… and legally…" he shook his head again. "Once, on a pleasant April morning the same year I graduated from high school but few months before I actually did… it was Saturday, I opened the front door because someone was forcefully knocking on them."

He smiled softly at the memory that played in his head as he continued, "Then I was enveloped in a very warm, very tight hug and before I managed to wake up properly I was marched to the kitchen and a smiling woman with curly brown hair started preparing breakfast as if she had done nothing else in her life. That was the first time I saw Aunt Nina since I was very, very small. Her husband, and my uncle, Toby got my mum's letter where she wrote of my ideas for future education and because at that time Toby and Nina were childless they decided that because my mum needed help and I need to not worry sick over leaving her all on her own then they should for the duration of my academic career move to Vegas…"

"And they did that in a matter of a weekend?" Molly asked skeptically.

"More or less," Reid nodded. "Toby was a surgeon and Nina was a nurse and a good surgeon and a good nurse were always needed. Without mentioning a word to my mum they quit their jobs, bought the house next to us because it was on sale and they moved to Vegas. Then uncle Toby said that after the rest will arrive he, me and uncles Dave, Tim and Spartin will have a man to man discussion about my academic career. It turned out that before they left St George Uncle Toby called his brothers and in not overly nice words told them what kind of a man my father was."

"Before the day was out I learned that regardless of what I remembered what my father said about them, not that there was much of it, he was completely wrong when it came to Cynthia's sons. Dave and Sheba together with Samson and Daniel came from Prospect, Maine on an incredibly short notice and they had their own business to run but they dropped everything when Toby called them and because they were living in the same town on their way to Vegas Dave and Sheba hailed Spartin and Mina on the board. Tim and Tina came from their ranch in Oak Hill, West Virginia too. It was…" he realized that his voice was trembling slightly and the corners of his eyes were burning. He cleared his throat and added slowly, "Anthony Brandt said that _other things might change us but we start and end with family_. There are two images of a family that I have firmly locked inside my brain. That Saturday evening in April when the twelve of us had gathered in the backyard of my house to eat dinner, the smile on my mum's face as she talked with my aunts and this heady feeling of freedom not to worry about things other twelve years old aren't supposed to worry. The other is the one of the team at every hardship, at every loss. This, is the family for me," he shook his head before he pointed at the window and added, "This… this is not a family, they think that they are but they aren't my family."

After that he had no other choice but to flee the room to not end bursting in tears in front of the kids. He made it to the garden and sat on the lowest step of the porch.

He didn't check how much time had passed and wasn't interested in checking but for sure it had to be few minutes before Cameron flopped on the stair next to him.

"Speaking about the family the kids are watching _The Incredibles_," she said pointedly before she took a deep breath and asked bluntly, "Were you thinking about having family on your own?"

"Are you offering?" he deadpanned tiredly.

"Me?" she shook her head. "God forbid. Don't get it wrong, I like you, as a person, but as possible love interest…" she shook her head again, "I'm not interested and for many reasons on that."

"Humor me," he sighed.

"First, I'm nineteen, you are thirty, that's huge age difference. Second, I'm a mother of a twelve years old who is a handful, genius or not, actually genius part in him is more handful than the twelve years old part, I'm hoping for improvement because of the tour de family. Third, I have shitty genes which excludes the idea of me ever having children on my own."

"Same here," he muttered. "The shitty genes part at least and the age difference. No twelve years old geniuses to bring up."

"Yet," Cameron coughed. "They might be in about a decade."

He stared at her in shock as he mumbled, "What you mean?"

"Would you like short version or long version?" she asked uncomfortably.

"One and then the other," he said quickly. "What you are implying?"

"I'm not implying anything," she said simply. "Do you remember Ruby Devaine?" she asked slowly. "Tallish, rather lanky, a mass of red curls, green eyes," she said.

He **did** remember Ruby Devaine, all too well. It was back in time when he still lived at his old apartment and was still struggling with his addiction and wasn't succeeding in beating it. Ruby was an associate, not really a prostitute, not much of an exotic dancer except… for him she was all those things and she was someone who _knew_ the right people in the right places.

"Cynthia?" he asked quietly. "How do you know…"

"Flu vaccine," she said simply. "Last year," she pointed at his left arm. "Birthmarks are dominant. She has exactly the same one and if it wasn't for the birthmark her general appearance would have me suspecting a relation of some sort."

"Why do you even have her?" he asked quietly.

"Because apparently the dentist on 35th Street is partly deaf and considers as a doctor only the doctors of medicine. You aren't one," Cameron said grimly. "Twenty minutes past two o'clock I was coming home and she was sitting by my front door, with a bag full of clothes and few toys and she was clutching on the file. From what I managed to get out of her was that mommy is very sick and that she has to go away and that she said that she has to stay with daddy now but everything is going to be fine…"

"Sick?" he stared at Cameron in shock.

"Lung cancer, inoperable," Cameron sighed. "I don't need to be an oncologist to see that it's bad and that she doesn't have much time left. Everything is in the file. All of Cynthia's legal paperwork, birth certificate with your name on it, the address on the documents on which your name figures is old. There are also copies of Ruby's medical files and a goodbye letter, to both of you, separately. I'm sorry but I had to read yours because I don't find kids on my doorstep everyday… Cynthia was the first."

His vision started graying on the edges and he started feeling overwhelming coldness when suddenly his head was pushed to his knees and he choked to take a breath.

"Breath," Cameron said calmly. "Spread your knees and take deep breaths."

He slowly inched his legs apart and took another shaky breath.

"I…" he mumbled.

"Breath, don't talk unless you aren't planning to faint," Cameron said quickly.

Several realizations were dawning on him at once.

First, the life he left behind did come back after him against his best efforts. Two, in spite of taking precautions he wasn't as careful as he thought he was even in the worst part of his life and it was a good thing that during his stint with drugs he didn't catch something worse than a cold, like HIV…. Three, his plan to never have children on his own was just that, a plan because reality had different ideas. Four, said child was about three to four years old and today was the first time he ever saw her. Five, her mommy left a letter… Six, he hated getting goodbye letters of any kind. Seven, considering the number of shocks he had today he was on the best way to finally lose it…

…and because having major depressive episode would be too simple what was ahead of him was a psychotic break.

'Compartmentalize,' he told himself firmly. 'You can't dissociate. Focus on surroundings. Breath slowly. Think of the kids. If you'll lose it now Hotch will kill you, Jess will kill you, Will and JJ will kill you, and on the top of that you would be leaving your daughter who was already abandoned once in last few hours and you have too much of abandonment issues on your own to do the same to her…'

Slowly he became aware of two things, of Cameron running circles over his back, slowly and methodically and then of small arms that wrapped against his right calf. Too unsure to be Henry's and too short to be Rory's.

It was Cynthia. It had to be her and something inside him broke. His daughter's first hug. It was slow, tentative and full of hope. He raised his head just a bit and saw that she was observing him fearfully which made him realize that right now he wasn't a perfect picture of mental stability and he willed himself to calm down even harder.

Big, brown eyes surrounded by the curtain of brown curls with the same thin lips like his mum's… her grandmother's… his daughter. Slowly he smiled at her and she beamed at him.

That was it. Come what might there was no power in the world which would be able to take her away from him. Four PhDs, two BAs, many different awards had paled in comparison to Cynthia's simple smile. He would have no problems with handing everything over to anyone willing to take it if only it would grant him watching how Cynthia would grow.

"Congratulations, it's a girl," Cameron said quietly before she patted his shoulder and stood up leaving him and Cynthia on their own.

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><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>

_Author's note: Cynthia... she wasn't in the original plot but the longer I thought about Reid with the kids the more appealing the idea became. Eventually I figured out that with his fear of developing schizophrenia Reid wouldn't willingly agree to father a child and in any case he would take great lengths to prevent himself from becoming a father because of his fear. Therefore the only window for maneuvers was those few months when he was still using, which makes Cynthia about three years old, three years and five months old to be exact and makes her older than Henry and younger than Rory. And I picked Cynthia as a name for a reason, you can either check it out by yourselves or you can wait for next chapter where Reid explains the meaning (by pondering over it)._

_Additional explanations about the dramatic ending: well considering the still growing list of shocks at least ONE of them had to bring Reid to the edge of losing it and considering how the original version of the chapter grew I decided to cut it in what seemed an appropriate place (well, for me)._

_Next chapter: It's a Girl! Reid reacts, the others react, Garcia implores death threats, Hotch considers drug-testing. The Reids enter the scene again. Plus many more. _


	8. Chapter 8: It's a Girl!

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

_Chapter summary: Reid ... How to sum it up without giving too much to spoil the fun... Reid reacts, in many ways, to the events of last chapter. Beware of angst, insecurities, spinach, misheard statements, ultimate sadists with MD title, Sawyer (explanations for Sawyer part are given at the bottom of the chapter) and cuteness._

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><p><strong>Chapter eight: It's a Girl!<strong>

_Cynthia_. Cynthia meant _from Mount Kynthos_ and _Kynthia_ was one of the names of Artemis, goddess of moon also known under the name _Diana_ and it was an appropriate name for granddaughter of one.

He could stare at her all day long and do nothing else. In fact he could stare at her through the rest of his life and do nothing else and he would still be a happy man.

"Hi," he said slowly.

"Hi," she echoed shyly. "Are you okay?"

"I am," he smiled at her. "I'm okay now."

"Are you mad? At me?" she asked nervously.

"Of course not," he said quickly. "I was just shocked. I didn't know that I had you and it… it taken some time to sink in but it did."

"Can I hug you now? I wanted early but Auntie told me that I have to wait to hug you until she will talk with you," Cynthia said eagerly. "She talked to you. Can I hug you now?"

"Of course Angel," he smiled at her as he picked her up and placed her on his knees.

He knew how fierce kids hugs could be. After all he had Henry, and Jack, and his cousins, well Chip and Dale at the very least because Rose and Linda lived too far away for either Samson or Reid to visit one another regularly. He knew how strong their hugs could be and from experience he should predict the strength of Cynthia's hug.

Except he missed the equation… by a mile. If Aunt Nina's hug upon seeing him for the first time in years was just as fierce as JJ's when they found him on the cemetery in Georgia then they both paled in comparison to the fierceness of Cynthia's hug as she wrapped her small arms around his neck.

It was flooring, literally and it made him completely giddy, giggly and he felt higher than he ever was on drugs and ready to take over the world, hell the whole solar system there was no reason why he should limit himself to the earth. It was so overwhelming that he had to share it. He needed to share it otherwise he would burst.

And with whom one could share such joy than with the family… well except those vultures at his front door because they weren't his family. So the only problem at the moment was whom he should call first.

The team or the Reids? Did it really matter in the end? He was calling all people that mattered anyway, well aside of his mum because these news deserved an express with the joyous news and a warning that he would be calling shortly after, and he should also make plans to visit within days.

He was still holding on Cynthia with his left hand while he was rummaging his pocket for his private cell phone.

He encountered the cluster of the Adamsons first, he had the whole family (those that mattered) rounded in there under the faux surname and real names. He scrolled over Danny because he wanted to get to Uncle Dave and knowing Aunt Sheba she would be calling Samson and Danny even before he would finish talking.

He pressed the call button and waited.

"Spencer," Dave picked the call on the third ring. "How are you kiddo?"

"Uncle Dave," he beamed. "It's a girl!" he giggled.

"Girl?" Dave asked calmly. "You are a daddy?"

"Yup, as of today," he confirmed happily. "Cynthia."

"Good choice," Dave chuckled. "You know Sheba…"

"What you mean you know Sheba, Dave?" he heard Aunt Sheba's voice in the background.

"Spencer became a daddy, of a girl named Cynthia, today," Dave relayed the message. "When exactly?"

"I…" Reid started. "Exactly I don't know yet, I didn't look into paperwork but she is about three…"

"Hours? Days?" Dave suggested.

"Years old," Reid clarified. "More like three and half."

"Let's talk about THAT part eye to eye, you know that after that statement… Shebs! Let the boy call Spartin and Mina on his own. Call Sam and Dan if you can't contain the glee," Dave said quickly.

"Well… I can't promise accommodations at my place but I know a very comfortable hotel nearby… and if all of you will show up then perhaps the lazy lot will stop infesting my front door…"

"Ah, the usual," Dave agreed. "Should I bring a riffle?"

"Not really," Reid shrugged. "Though if you and Uncles Tim, Toby and Spartin had a discussion with them, especially with Jonah… You know the one with the use of a lot of _we_ I would greatly appreciate it."

"Sure as hell, kid, got to go, I need to stop your Aunt from bringing the fridge along. See you soon."

Dave hung up and Reid was dialing the number to Uncle Spartin.

"Gratulations Sawyer," was the first thing Spartin said. "Mina is already calling Alan to hold on the tickets. You know that we usually give you a warning few days before…"

"You would be the most welcomed, Uncle Spartin. I'm short on sleeping space but I can promise food and a kid fix, my daughter and I can add my godson whom I'm babysitting into the mix. Though him I have to hand over tomorrow but Cynthia stays."

"Call Toby and Nina," Spartin advised. "They have a long flight ahead of them and… Oh, thank you dearie, do you want to give the kid a nervous breakdown? Change of plans Sawyer, Sheba already called Toby and Nina, your mother knows and they are taking her with them, she even said that she will endure a flight. Call Tim and Tina instead. Have I ever told you that your mother could lead an army if she wanted?"

"Never before. They were visiting?" Reid asked curiously.

"You sound surprised, they always visit Diana when they are in Vegas. Just because your daddy is the oldest it doesn't mean that the family has to follow his example… Now you really want to give him nervous breakdown Minnie… Mina called Tim and Tina, they are leaving immediately, they should make it into DC before midnight, earlier if Tim will speed."

"News travel fast," Reid beamed.

"Hadn't for a while," Spartin said simply. "And good news travel fast."

He was interrupted by the distinctive sound of an awaiting call.

"I got to go, I can bet that I have Hawaii on the line," Reid said quickly. "Most probably with something that involves me losing my hearing."

"Sure, see you soon, Sawyer," Spartin hung up.

Reid picked the call and predictably he was greeted by chorused, "Gratulations!"

"If the mountain won't come to the prophet then the prophet will come to the mountain," Samson declared. "Brace yourself cuz, we are coming to see you and your daughter whenever you like it or not. Does someone has to die here to have you come to Hawaii even for few days?"

"It's not my fault that you picked Hawaii to live and as far as serials are concerned field office is managing just fine without BAU's involvement. Besides to get a consult in there I have to stand in line, a very long one. The girls are coming too?"

"Why not? Mum would be in heaven and so will be Aunt Mina and I hadn't seen the squirrels for a longer while. Five kids? They are already acting twenty years younger. See you soon cuz."

"And a good day to you too," Reid nodded.

The Reid side was covered. Frankly, it covered itself which left the team and John and Joyce if they were in town for the weekend.

Except…

Sean was still at the hospital, still unconscious and most probably in between surgeries. Jessica's father was in not good state and so was Will's aunt. Springing the news of becoming a father on people who were on the verge of losing a family member was tactless at best. Hotch, Jess, Will and JJ were where they were needed the most at the moment.

Which left Morgan, Garcia, Rossi and Seaver. The latter two were still in Boston and most probably still doing interviews which excluded calls for another few hours. Morgan was still on the case on which he couldn't afford to lose concentration and Garcia…

… was Garcia. She wouldn't implore death threats or degrade him to a pencil and notebook upon hearing the news but she would call everybody else around with the joyous news which defeated his idea of not calling them.

He looked down at Cynthia who was observing him curiously.

"So many people to call and so many reasons not to," he sighed.

"Why?" she asked solemnly.

How one explains tact to a three years old?

For sure he had no memory of his three years old self. Photographs, yes. Memories, no. Aside of one memory of being locked in the barn for the whole night. The earliest, solid memories were memories of him being four. Riley Jenkins case mostly. His parents arguing about moving houses. His father saying that he loved him…

Except his father did never fully understand what loving someone meant. He never fully comprehended the meaning of love because true love never asked for conditions. His father did, he gave conditions for his love long before he walked away, conditions Reid was never able to fully meet.

Little league, riding bike, soccer team, camping, fitting in with that bunch of rascals that went under the names of Adam, Brian, Chris, Dirk and Ed. Acting as if nothing happened when they locked him in the barn, blaming rescuing him from the old (and luckily for him not very deep and completely dry) water well on his clumsiness, worse accepting without batting an eyelid accursed quintet's explanations that Spencer fell in there all by himself. Making him being bullied in middle school into something normal, boys being boys… but the most of all not being there where in high school there wasn't a day where he wasn't tormented if not by football team then by cheerleaders.

William Reid's son was supposed to be normal boy, not the freak who could run in intellectual circles around his father before he even learned how to ride a two wheeler properly.

What kind of a father he was it showed after Riley Jenkins's case. He had the gall to be proud. He had the gall to send a Christmas postcard and to wish him Merry Christmas.

He had no right to be proud. He had no right to pretend that seventeen years of him not being there meant nothing. Reid told him that. He made just one call to his father after that damned postcard to tell him that if he would try to contact him again he would pull a restraining order against him.

It was Samson who showed Reid what mattered. Samson, the new, proud father of Rose and Linda who showed his barely five days old daughters to his cousin nearly six years ago.

After Samson showed him the girls and allowed Reid to observe how gentle and how much in love with his daughters Sam was, and later when Liana, Sam's wife, had taken them both to let them sleep in peace while the two of them had shared a discussion about fatherhood and their own fathers.

What Sam told him back then was what Reid figured years ago and one of the reasons he couldn't bring himself to ever forgive his father for leaving. But it was nice to know that he wasn't the only person who thought so.

It was a quote of M. R. Brett, "The rights of a father are sacred rights because his duties are sacred duties."

And as discredited as Freud was there were few things that were right, like that quote, "I could not point to any need in childhood as strong as that for a father's protection."

He didn't know what kind of a father he wanted to be but what he knew was what kind of a father he _**didn't**_ want to be. He didn't want to be his father.

"Why?" Cynthia asked quietly.

She reminded him of her earlier question and his problem how to explain tact to a three years old. He smiled gently at her and said.

"Sometimes telling something that makes you feel good, feel great to someone who isn't feeling the same makes you hurt those people," he said pensively. "I would love to tell my friends about you Cynthia."

"Why don't you?" she asked simply.

"Because they are worried about their own families right now," he said. "They need to remain focused, concentrated on their families for as long as their families need them. But don't worry, I will tell them about you when they will come back."

"Can we make cards?" Cynthia asked pensively.

"Cards?" Reid asked curiously.

"Like get well cards but different," she explained.

He smiled at her. She was such a thoughtful girl.

"Of course we can," he agreed. "Let's ask Aunt Katie if she has paper to draw on."

**Famous Last Words**

Fifteen minutes later when he and Cameron were finishing lunch in the kitchen (as much as frozen lasagna could be finished) between watching the kids in the living-room through the open door he came to a startling conclusion.

"My daughter is a genius," he said as he sliced the tomato for the salad.

"Intellectual or emotional?" Cameron asked curiously.

"Does it matter?" he looked skeptically at Cameron.

"Not really," Cameron shrugged. "You are equally screwed either way. In fact you are screwed even if she isn't a genius."

"Your point being?" Reid snorted.

"That you have yet to learn the power of a pout, young Padawan," Cameron snickered. "Though I wouldn't go too far with genius statement until she would be able to put entire kindergarten into a shame, repeatedly and I wouldn't come close with any IQ tests for next few months."

"She needs to be comfortable with me, with herself, with new surroundings, new people in her life," Reid nodded. "How it was with Killian?"

"What you are exactly asking for?" Cameron asked pensively.

"Experience?" Reid asked simply. "You are in position of a parent for about two years, four perhaps…"

"More than that," Cameron shook her head.

"How much?" he asked curiously.

"More tomatoes to the salad?" Cameron finished. "Two."

"You are avoiding," he told her.

"Why do you need to know?" she shrugged. "Precisely eight years and yes, thank you I know that at the age of eleven I was as much of a child as he is now. Does it matter now? Not really. Why? Because I had to and there was no one else to do it. I'm not almighty but I'm stubborn and unlike my sisters I'm in complete possession of my mental capacities thank you very much."

"What's wrong with them?"

"Mercy suffered from clinical depression," Cameron said simply. "As for Allison… the less I will say about her the better but my opinion of her was always so high that one has to dig for it."

"That's not very high and sarcasm doesn't become you," Reid commented. "Allison is Killian's mother, isn't she?"

"Heaven's preserve, me and Killian," Cameron snorted. "I don't really know what got into her head and frankly I'm not interested in learning. Perhaps it was jealously, perhaps it was something else. What I _do_ know for sure is that thirteen years ago she walked away from our house and our family and she never returned since. My father located her, once in Arizona and once in New Jersey, last time I heard something about her she came back to Chicago. Frankly for all I care she can move to Barrow, Alaska and remain there for the rest of her life. However I will start caring when she would move to DC and will get a job at GUH and trust me when she will she would wish that she didn't."

"Siblings rivalry?" he asked curiously.

"The use of the word rivalry implies the concept of a competition and competition requires interactions and grounds for thereof. Between me and Allison there are no interactions and no grounds for competition. Unless you would take into account medicine but immunology and psychiatric medicine has nothing in common."

"There are publications," Reid offered. "And medical reviews."

"You are trying to piss me off," Cameron muttered.

"Am I succeeding?" he shrugged.

"Not quite," Cameron grimaced. "Just tell me how we had gotten from discussing the intelligence of your daughter to my sister?"

"By talking," he supplied simply. "You know, me asking questions and you answering them. Last time I checked it was called having a conversation. What about intelligence in the family?"

"High, thank you for asking, mind your fingers it's a very sharp knife," Cameron snorted.

"I'm being serious and thank you for concern," Reid smirked. "Intelligence is hereditary."

"And it has its own sense of humor," Cameron muttered. "High, maybe not too high in all members of the family because my parents weren't qualified as geniuses and neither was Mercy. I'm a precious cookie and so is Killian. But as I said yesterday skipping few years at school was relatively common. Even Allison skipped a year and taking into account IQ tests she has IQ the lowest from the whole family. From what I know she could skip two but didn't wish too. She graduated from high school at the age of seventeen, Mercy graduated from high school at the age of fifteen, I was eleven because from additional subjects I'd only taken bare minimum. I didn't need to vibe anything because I knew that I wanted to become a doctor."

"I'm asking again how high?" he smirked. "195?"

"Too high," Cameron shook her head.

"And 165 would be too low," Reid muttered. "In between?"

"Maybe," Cameron smirked. "Why do you need to know?"

"Because I want to start a club," Reid rolled his eyes.

"Good luck with that. I still don't know how it affects Cynthia," Cameron shrugged as she motioned with her head at the living room where Cynthia and the rest of the kids were drawing cards.

It was a mere curiosity but the more Cameron protested the more curious he got.

"Female role models," he said the first thing which came to his mind. "188?" he asked on purpose giving the level which topped him.

"Fine," Cameron sighed. "You've asked for that. If you divide it by three you will get a moron."

"Nice, prejudiced but nice," he smirked. "So that means that I can exclude above 186 and under 165 which brings us down to eight possibilities."

"Desist!" Cameron groaned.

"Or…" he asked innocently.

"Or I will plant the garlic bread on your head as soon as I will take it out from the oven," Cameron snorted.

"Daddy why Auntie's left eye is twitching?" Cynthia asked from the doorway.

"Because your daddy is a pain in the bum, Sweetie," Cameron said calmly. "Mine unfortunately," she added before she grabbed the tray with empty glasses and walked into dining area.

"What's a pain in the bum?" Cynthia asked curiously but quickly seemed to change her mind and extended a card to Reid with a huge grin before she asked, "Do you like it daddy?"

Rationally he knew that saying that it was lovely card would be enough, for Cynthia but not for the inner profiler who quickly had taken into account bright colors of the picture and typical for Cynthia's age lack of perspective.

It was a picture of a meadow, lime green meadow, with colorful dots which might be flowers. Over the meadow was a gigantic sun. There were three people on it, consisting mostly from heads and legs. Two by the middle and one by the right edge of the sheet. One of the two was taller, one was smaller and the taller had a spidery hand placed on the head of the smaller one and both were smiling and probably waving at the lone figure on the edge of the sheet, turned to them but sadder, that one was drawn in pale yellow color.

"Wow, you are one smart cookie aren't you Cynthia?" Cameron said lightly as she peered over Reid's shoulder. "That's a five years old level."

"Imagine that," Reid said absentmindedly.

It was five years old level, kids of three and half weren't this skilled. Sure, it wasn't a da Vinci but to him it was worth more than a da Vinci.

"Should I pinch you?" Cameron asked calmly.

He showed the picture fully to her.

"So?" she asked calmly. "It's surprising but could you expect more than that?"

"I expected less," Reid said pointedly. "Cynthia, can you tell me who is in the picture?" he asked as he crouched so he was on her level and showed the picture to his daughter.

"That's mommy," Cynthia pointed at the lone figure. "She is sad because she has to go to the angels and she can't stay longer." Then she pointed at the smaller figure, "That's me and that's you, daddy," she moved her finger to the bigger figure, "we are waving bye-bye to mommy."

Past injuries not mattering after this statement his knees gave out and he landed on his bum from sheer shock. It was astounding level of openness, understanding and trust he didn't expect from Cynthia, certainly not in a matter of less than a hour since she met him. It was a level of trust he didn't earn but received it anyway. It was utterly flooring.

Screw da Vinci, da Vinci had a price, enormous but a price nevertheless and THIS was priceless.

"You don't like it?" Cynthia asked cautiously.

"I love it," he whispered. "Come here," he stretched his arms to her.

She beamed at him, quickly ran into his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. Boy, he could get used to that.

**Famous Last Words**

"Yuck," Reid proclaimed ten minutes later when Cameron herded the whole bunch to the table.

"There is no pork," Molly observed the food on the table. "It's a lasagna and a salad with garlic bread."

"It's spinach, that's even bigger yuck than pork," Reid shook his head. "How someone can make a lasagna out of this disgusting…"

"Spinach is good for you," Cameron interrupted him. "It's nutritious… Seriously, you are a chemist if my memory serves me correctly. Do I have to quote nutritional value of spinach at you?"

"You don't have to because it's not going to work," Reid snorted. "Many had tried and all of them had failed."

"Your daughter needs vitamins and so does your godson," Cameron stated calmly. "Last time I checked parents were supposed to set an example."

"In my line of work…" Reid started.

Cameron rolled her eyes and started dividing the lasagnas between the kids, piece of old fashioned tomato lasagna and a piece of disgusting spinach one before she scooped a bit of salad (with spinach, damn the woman) on each plate.

"Stop being a baby," she said innocently as she sat down between Cynthia and Rory.

Reid sat down at the other side between Henry and Cynthia. Jack and Zack were sitting past them with Molly in the middle.

He observed with unhidden curiosity and not overly hidden disgust how Rory started to demolish spinach lasagna with a happy smile.

Maybe if he tried hard enough he would be able to fish out the disgusting vegetable from Cynthia's and Henry's plates. It would be hard because the wicked witch cut it into tiny pieces.

Then to his horror he realized that on the fork which Cameron was holding Cynthia was a piece of spinach.

"Are you trying to poison my daughter?" he huffed.

"I'm teaching her healthy eating habits," Cameron said simply. "She is growing she needs calcium for strong bones, Vitamin A for sharp eyes and iron to not look like vampire."

"I'm not anemic," Reid protested.

"Denial is a very long river in Egypt, you are forgetting that I have an access to your medical records," Cameron shrugged. "You don't have an anemia, yet, but today you've lost blood. Eat your spinach."

"Yes mum," Reid snorted.

"Fine, no desert for you," Cameron said simply.

"Hakuna matata!" Jack and Zack howled in unison.

"Harpy," Reid muttered. "And terrorists. I'm a hostage, I want a negotiator. Hakuna matata my bum."

"You are outnumbered," Cameron shrugged.

"And it tastes good," Molly offered.

"If I will die from spinach poisoning you will be founding my funeral," Reid sighed. "I want a jazz band and no flowers… well except for few white irises and a canon salve."

"Okay and on your tombstone we will write down Spencer Reid, seasoned agent, devoted friend, new father. Dove bullets, negotiated with lunatics, got himself killed by spinach," Cameron rolled her eyes.

Reid snorted into his iced tea.

"Besides if I wanted to poison you wouldn't I pick a food which you happen to like?" Cameron asked simply.

"Hakuna matata," he said sourly as he scooped a forkful of spinach-filled salad and brought it to his mouth.

It was official, he developed Stockholm's Syndrome.

**Famous Last Words**

Sometime after incredibly late lunch that was more of an early dinner than late lunch the merry bunch discovered a ball and made a beeline to the garden. Molly curled herself with a Sudoku book in an armchair on the back porch from time to time eyeing the younger kids running after the ball between rubbing Clooney's ears. Cameron cleared off after lunch and Reid wandered off to the living-room to check if the bunch of terrorists had decided to leave, which to his unhidden disgust they didn't.

But to his shock he discovered something much worse than the bunch of rascals and he quickly hid behind the curtain.

His father came down to DC and he knew his address.

There was no mistaking. The man sitting in canary yellow Toyota on the opposite side of the road was William Reid. What in the name of Aunt Clementine he was doing here?

He was looking at the houses which meant that he knew exact address which meant that one day he might come in contact with Cynthia. Well… not if Reid had something to say about this and he had a lot to say.

Before his mind caught up with what he was doing he already had his shoes on and was storming down the stairs in the direction of the yellow Toyota. Somewhere behind him the front door slammed shut.

Upon seeing him his father got out from the car with a huge smile and opening arms.

"Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here," Reid growled punctuating each word.

"I came to see my granddaughter," his father stated calmly.

"Oh no, you didn't," Reid snarled. "You don't have a granddaughter because you don't have a son! You've lost all parental rights twenty years ago when you had chosen to walk out of our lives. Your are not my father, you are merely a sperm donor. You have no rights to me and you have no rights to my daughter and trust me if I will find out that you came within thirty feet of her restraining order would be the last of your worries. Now I'm giving you one last chance to leave this town as a free man. You will place your sorry ass in that canary automobile, turn it fuck around and go back to Vegas and you will never set a foot on this street or any other street on which my house happens to be."

"You said that you were sorry…" his father muttered.

"For suspecting you of being pedophile!" Reid growled. "I was sorry only for that and I was sorry for my sake, not yours. No man wants to know that he is a progeny of a sick, twisted bastard that preys on innocent children. You forfeited all rights to me twenty years ago and it hadn't changed, Riley Jenkins hadn't change that because that case was a piss poor excuse for your cowardice. If it was all about the case you would have left a hell lot sooner. You didn't, you realized that mentally ill wife and freak of a son wasn't what you wanted, it didn't fit your disillusioned image of a perfect family. You are a lawyer, an alpha male but you weren't one at home, you were no one, you were impotent, that's why you never remarried and never followed your dream of having normal children… you couldn't have them because you were never able to get it up…"

"Reid!" he heard from behind his back. "Don't do it to yourself."

"I'm not doing it to myself, Cameron," Reid spat. "I'm doing it for my daughter."

"By descending to his level, be my guest," Cameron said simply. "You are a better man than he is and a better father than he ever will be."

"Listen missy…" his father started.

"No, you listen, bucko," Cameron snorted. "You will do as he says and you will do it now. Nothing that Reid said was a lie. He isn't the only profiler around and I don't need to be a profiler to spot an impotent, narcissistic alpha male. You cannot stand to **not** be the centre of attention and you couldn't be a centre of the attention, not ever, not when you were expected to be the oldest and the most understanding one, that's why you hated your step-mother or was it because your mother slept on left and right? You are an overachiever because you constantly had to prove to the others that you aren't weak, but you are, you always were and always will be."

"And you told me to not do it to myself," Reid snorted.

"I told you that because for you it was personal. For me it wasn't and for the record, Mr Reid, I didn't insult you, I diagnosed you, you are welcome to sue me," Cameron said simply. "Send the complaint in care of Kate J. Cameron, MD, Assistant Head of the Department of Psychiatric Medicine, Georgetown University Hospital." She paused before she added, "As for you… look they apparently have some sense… at the very least of self-preservation."

Reid turned left and saw that the others were piling into their cars as fast as possible.

"Have a good day Mr Reid," Cameron said simply. "If you aren't gone in five minutes I will be calling the cops. Reid, come on, there is something I want to show to you."

She almost dragged him inside the house and closed the door forcefully behind them.

"Assistant Head of the Department?" Reid asked skeptically. "No offense but aren't you a bit too young for that?"

"It's just a title," Cameron shrugged. "Reid, most of psychiatrists in the department are male. There is like three other females aside of me and my boss has a very little interest in administrative matters. So he and the rest of the guys devised a plot to keep the dean of their backs and let them practice medicine in peace and at the same time one that would piss him off. He is a hell of chauvinistic pig and he can't stand females in charge, even titular charge and being assistant head means only and just that, that I'm the only person around that keeps tabs on shifts and times off. The other girls are responsible for keeping paperwork in order, department's budget…"

"Isn't that a job for the head of the department?" Reid asked skeptically. "Most heads that can't keep their department…"

"He has a tenure," Cameron shrugged. "He isn't going anywhere and hospital board of governors is happy as long as everything is in order. Besides he is setting an example of appreciating female coworkers, that's a big plus."

"Clearly not an alpha male," Reid summed up.

"Not much of a one," Cameron agreed. "But I'm not complaining, it's quite cool title for a little work I was doing anyway. Everybody is happy. Now, stop worrying about your father and go play with your daughter."

"What if he will sue?" Reid asked skeptically.

"I have colleagues and GUH has the best lawyers, it won't hold if he sues, trust me," Cameron shook her head.

"If?" Reid stared at her.

"Alpha males are very sensitive about their manhood," Cameron deadpanned. "And between you and me we just made his testicles shrivel so much that they imploded. If he is smart he will figure out that in any case I will summon whole discussion and not parts of it ergo he will think very, very hard before suing and most probably will decide against it. But why I'm telling you that?"

"Because I asked?" Reid offered as he walked in the direction of the back porch.

Cynthia, Henry, Jack, Zack and Rory were still playing with the ball and they made a very weird though funny to watch mock soccer game out of it. Zack and Jack were very careful of not kicking the air filled ball too hard and didn't play foul (which with three smaller kids would result with a crying match).

It was a good game and there was nothing more satisfying than observing five frolicking kids making a hell of noise and just being happy.

So he sat down on the bottom of the stairs and continued watching them.

Barely few minutes after he sat down his cell phone rung and he checked caller's ID. Hotch.

"Reid," Reid said. "How is New York?"

"Where I am it's slightly dull. Sean was taken into second surgery. Mum is terrified, mother is being sarcastic, nothing really had changed other me developing two urges, one to drown Malcolm in the toilet and the other to lock Grace in hospital's morgue, ideally in the cooler. How is DC?"

"Warm, sunny, fed and at the moment frolicking in the garden with a ball, minus Clooney who is snoring on the porch and keeping Molly company," Reid said simply.

Suddenly Cynthia collided with Jack quite forcefully and she landed on her bum in shock.

"Gotta go," Reid said quickly. "Your son knocked over my daughter. I'll be right back," he added and left the phone on the stairs as he ran to the kids.

But before he made it to the kids Jack was helping Cynthia up from the ground and was apologizing with a sheepish smile to which Cynthia herself smiled and kicked the ball which Jack abandoned away from him.

The game resumed and Reid came back to his phone.

"Did you just say that my son knocked up your daughter?" Hotch asked.

"If he will even as much as try to think about it I will be testing both yours and mine dissertations on him," Reid snorted. "Why you are bringing it up?"

"Because you just said that and since when you have a daughter?" Hotch protested.

"Since today and I didn't say that he knocked her up, he knocked her over, there is a huge difference between those two. For Einstein's sake Hotch, he is five and she is three, that's not a conversation before another decade," Reid said quickly. "At the very least decade if not two if I have something to say about this."

"Let's start from that part with the daughter," Hotch sighed. "How did you get her?"

"And that's coming from the man who got PhD in Biology," Reid snorted.

"Reid!" Hotch sighed.

"She is about three and half, do the math," Reid sighed.

Hotch was silent for a moment before he said, "You just learned."

"About two hours ago," Reid confirmed. "Would you terribly mind if I would move my vacation time from August to start from Monday? I have a lot to figure out and a lot to prepare and I still didn't figure most of the important parts."

"Of course not, take all the time off you need, those two weeks at the minimum," Hotch said quickly. "Should I schedule a flight back?"

"Stay where you are," Reid said simply. "You have nothing to worry about here. Though I'm going to say that, your son and nephews and nieces have no sense of self-preservation, they actually like spinach and together with the ultimate sadist they coerced me into eating that disgusting thing."

"The ultimate sadist?" Hotch asked skeptically.

"My neighbor," Reid shrugged. "I had temporal pest problem but it was taken care of. Apparently all I need to get rid of them was verbally tearing my father a new one. Listen, I didn't call anyone from the team yet because I didn't want all of you to come back to DC for no reason and calling Garcia pretty much means calling everyone but I'm hoping to come around in the morning on Monday to drop the paperwork and to show her off as a surprise…"

"I won't say a word until you will come," Hotch agreed. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," Reid smiled to himself. "How do you make it work since we are at it?"

"You want an honest answer or the comforting one?" Hotch sighed.

"Either," Reid said simply.

"Sometimes I feel like balancing on the edge of madness but trust me, that's actually the best feeling in the world and I wouldn't succeed much if it wasn't for Jess's help and the more time passes it gets easier and Reid," Hotch said seriously, "whatever you need, just ask."

"Right now, time off and later we will see," Reid nodded and smiled to himself when Jack kicked the ball into the pond. "Gotta go. Do you want to talk with Jack?"

"Sure," Hotch said.

"Jack! Your dad is calling," Reid called out.

Jack made a beeline to him but suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and stared skeptically at something behind Reid's back.

He barely managed to turn around before he was enveloped in warm and fierce embrace and curly blonde hair that smelt of apple pie tickled his nose just as he heard soft chuckle.

The family was coming into town, more precisely some members were already in town.

* * *

><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>

_**Why Spartin calls Reid Sawyer?** Pure and simple, he was nicknamed so obviously he nicknamed the other Spencer (meaning our Reid) and he preferred Sawyer over Saw (explanations for that one were given in last chapter where they were discussing names and nicknames), so yes Sawyer will make a come back at some later point._

_**Why he didn't call the team?** Aside of the reasons I already gave to Reid I didn't want him to relapse to the brink of psychotic break by subjecting him both to his family and the team. He tries to be empathic and compassionate and he wants the team to concentrate on what for them at the moment is the most important. Take the note of the word tries which implies how big are his chances for succeeding._

_**Cameron being ...** annoying, nagging, avoiding, bitchy... insert whatever feelings you got towards her in there. Note that she heard Reid leaving and she heard him reacting and towards William she reacted on what she already knew from Reid and to what she saw. William might not have taken Reid alone seriously but having two people rather than one stomp over his manhood is more likely to make his manhood implode. Profiler comment is pretty self explanatory, being a psychiatrist she reacts to what she observes and other than that she signalizes that what Reid says should be taken very seriously. Assertiveness of the position she names is not important part of the story, it's a signal that Reid himself has support in many places._

_**Cynthia again.** Flooring? Yes. Surprising? Yes. Let's be frank her mother might not be a genius but she isn't stupid either and as Reid mentions intelligence is hereditary and seeing that her dad is a genius she doesn't fit in the brackets of a typical three and half years old. Not to mention that picture part was a good excuse to have Reid landing on his bum AGAIN, as for more detailed explanations I might have the adults discuss the matter once the kids would go to sleep since they will be discussing Cynthia as whole (with Reid FINALLY going over the paperwork) but for that I need all Reids (well most of those which are supposed to be there). But I doubt that it will happen in next chapter, the one after that probably._

_**Reid himself.** Still not in whole control of his emotions. It's a huge shock and I didn't exactly make it easier for him. Predictably he flies of the handle and as much as he wanted to avoid the confrontation with his relatives earlier now he has no problems with it because it's not about him any longer. Quite recently I found a quote which pretty much sums up my mental image of what kind of a father Reid would be, here it is: Watching your daughter being collected by her date feels like handing over a million dollar Stradivarius to a gorilla. ~Jim Bishop. Worried? Incredibly. Terrified? Down to the bone marrow. Overprotective? Fiercely._

_**Spinach?** Season 2: The Boogey Man if I remember correctly. Reid isn't big fan of spinach and having him being the only person not liking it was too funny to let it pass without joking about it considering the seriousness of the upcoming confrontation._

_Next chapter: Pretty much the kids and the Reids (those whom Reid doesn't want to send to Mars hoping that they would get lost somewhere on the way) and somewhere in there the merry bunch makes it back to Reid's house (because they have no reason now to stay at Cameron's house)._


	9. Chapter 9: Goddess of the Moon

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

_Chapter summary: Err... How about 'let's not kill her yet because she has to finish the story'?_

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><p><strong>Chapter nine: <strong>**Goddess of the Moon.**

She remembered seeing him for the very first time. Small hand sticking out from the purple patchwork blanket, small head with soft brown hair covered by green cap. She wasn't the first to hold him but she was never sore over that because that memory, that image she always carried close to her heart.

When she saw him for the very first time she was slowly waking up and he was in her mother's arms. Her mother was gone not too long after his birth, killed by drunk driver.

It was a terrifying feeling. Being a mother, being _his_ mother.

He was perfect. Right from the moment she laid her eyes on him. He was perfect. She knew that he was perfect, that he was special long before others had seen it. She had the honor to be the first who had seen it.

Intellectually he grew faster than other kids and it was that what made him special to the others. His mind. She always loved that in him but it wasn't the only reason she loved him. He was her son, how could she not love him. He understood her in ways Will was never able to understand her.

When shadows lengthened and voices intensified she tried to cling feverishly to his constancy, to his presence and understanding that no matter what happened he was her son and that he will never leave.

That he would never leave like Will did.

She loved watching him when he slept because when he slept he looked like an angel, finally his own age, still a baby, always her baby, her little boy.

_Spencer_. Will father's name. Spencer Reid was a good man, down to earth with dry wit and big heart. He welcomed her with open arms even if his wife, Agnes, didn't. He never made her feel worse and he was the first man she saw crying. She remembered the moment, its startling clarity, the moment her mother passed her son into his grandfather's arms. It was then when she knew that she wanted her son to have the name of a man who wasn't afraid of shedding tears. _Spencer_. Occupational name of Middle English origins. _Dispenser of provisions_. Dispenser of medication, of food, of the time spend on reading, of hours of sleep.

_Aaron_. Another name after his grandfather. From Hebrew _mountain of strength_ and he was strength, her strength, his own strength. He was her pillar, her constant and rock. With him there was hardly a time she felt lost because she knew that he would always find her.

_William_. After Will and still after Will's father and hers father (his second name). _Protection_. He protected her, he protected himself. There were times when he was so hell-bent in protecting her that he forgot that he had to take care of himself. In times like that she had to protect him from protecting her too much. Like when he started putting his brilliant mind on the scales against protecting her.

It hurt her to watch it. It hurt her to watch him sacrificing his future for her. That's why she wrote the letter to Tobias. No matter what she said he would not change his mind about not pursuing his further education under respected professors. She needed the counsel, she needed the tribe, she needed the village to convince him to go.

And he went, not without a fight. He called every other day, wrote every single day, came back home for weekends and stayed home for as long as possible electing to sleep on the train.

Somewhere between the day the tribe decided to send him away and the day _he_ send her away he grew up. From scrawny, lanky boy with huge glasses hiding his beautiful brown eyes into still scrawny, still lanky young man.

There was the time when she hated him for sending her away. She hated him precisely for three hundred sixty-seven days, four hours and forty-two minutes. She hated being confined to a psychiatric hospital, she hated having to be _allowed_ to call someone and just for three minutes, she hated that they seemed to think that they knew better what was the best for her.

It wasn't until she saw him after over a year of refusing to see him that she finally understood.

It was as hard on him as it was on her but he was still hell-bent on having her stay where she was. He said that she looked better, that she was healthier. It angered her that she spoke to her like to a small child until she realized that he wasn't only convincing her, he was also convincing _himself._

At the hospital one day was like another so they merged one to another, days… weeks… months… years.

In the beginning he visited often. When he was still in California he visited on every weekend, later on when he moved across the country he visited every month. Then it became less. Two months, three months, four months, five months… Once a whole year had gone by without his visits and God she was so angry with him.

He wrote letters, he always wrote letters but letters weren't enough.

It had been over a year when he had those fascists drag her on a plane to protect her and it was also a while before it finally sunk.

He did what he did because it was what he had chosen, it was his path, what he wanted. He did it because he was Spencer Aaron William Reid. Because the names which she had given him shaped the man he was, he devoted himself to protecting others by supplying his knowledge and the strength he was.

It was few years back when she truly saw more of the Agent than of her son in him. His strength, his determination, the moment of dawning realization and later on anger, frustration… shame… vulnerability.

He called the same day he left. A friend of his made him the godfather of her son, blue eyed bundle with soft blonde hair, the boy was born on the same day he put to rest the shadows that haunted him for years. _Henry, the home ruler_.

Henry, skilled kidnapper that wrapped not only his parents but also godparents around his pinky. Devoted, sweet little boy with still blonde curls and still baby blue eyes that filled with wonder, one that clung to Spencer's leg in one of the photographs he sent in his letters. The boy with huge smile like in the other photograph where prime role played mushy pees he smeared over himself and over his equally terrified and equally gleeful godfather.

Henry dominated his letters for a very long time, he still did. She liked to think that she got better account of godfather-godson bonding time than his parents did. She had many photos of the boy because he was important to Spencer.

After Spencer she didn't want to have other kids. Not because she almost died from fright during her pregnancy although it played a part but because she had a baby and he was perfect no matter what Will said Spencer was enough and more than enough.

Regardless what she thought about having other kids than him there was in her the mother that wanted her son to be happy and the mother that longed for receiving a photograph of a baby that was completely, utterly _his_.

She wished upon falling stars that one day he would find the perfect woman who would understand and love the man he was and who would give him a perfect child on his own, her grandchild.

It was a dream, a longing and long time ago she placed that thought on her _wishful thinking list_, along with leaving the hospital, never succumbing to her sickness in the first place.

Tobias and Janine with their unable to sit straight for longer than two minutes twins, Chip and Dale came around to visit her at the hospital always when they were in Vegas. They always brought the boys because they always had something for Aunt Di (like the braver of the pair, Chip called her when he was two years old). Seeing them made her sad at times because the older they grew the longer she was at the hospital. God bless Janine for her heart and understanding, for the sacrifice of her own motherhood for as long as she required help.

When Tobias and Janine with the boys came they brought Janine's cookies and Jane always knew how to cram as much sugar as humanly possible into a cookie. They brought flowers, white orchids like usual. The boys brought pictures and a comics book made for her of their own, slightly poor but very artistic penmanship.

She greeted them and listened to breathless, interjected account of fifth grade material that the twins were giving, constantly interrupting one another in their joyfulness. It made her happy and it made her sad because at eleven Spencer was smart but shy and nervous boy that hardly ventured in such breathless account of making a rocket out of a film roll that killed the gold fish in the aquarium by accident.

Tobias's phone rang suddenly and he picked it up. He listened for a moment before he yelped, "When? How? Spencer? Our Spencer?"

For a moment she almost died from fright until it sunk that Tobias was grinning like an idiot. Tobias was a rational man, good man and he wasn't a monster. He wouldn't be joyous over Spencer getting hurt.

Tobias let go off the phone for a moment as he said, "Spencer became a father. Girl named Cynthia."

"When?" Janine asked in excitement.

"Today and about three years ago," Tobias answered quickly. "I mean she is about three and half but he just learned today. Maine and Hawaii are already preparing to leave, I don't know about Tim and Tina…"

It was like being hit by lightning-bolt. Her long time deeply buried dream came true. Her baby boy became a father and she had a granddaughter, Cynthia.

_Cynthia_. Kynthia, the other name of Artemis, goddess of moon, also known under the name Diana.

"If you are thinking that I'm going to stay here…" she told them.

"It will be a flight Diana," Janine said calmly. "You are terrified of flying."

"I don't care," she huffed. "I want to see my son and my granddaughter as soon as possible. Drug me if you have to but I'm going with you."

And surprisingly they let her go. Her doctors didn't even bat an eyelid about releasing her into Tobias's and Janine's care. They instructed all of them about sedating her for the duration of the flight so she wouldn't spend few hours at worrying herself sick that they were going to crash.

The sedation allowed her to sleep the whole flight and she woke up only when the plane had landed. Janine had given her pills and strong tea to clear her head from sleep while Tobias wandered away in search of rental cars.

She took in the surroundings.

Different from Vegas and slightly quirky.

The street where Spencer's house was. Quiet neighborhood and according to Janine close to Georgetown University. Terrace-houses, not too big, not too small, each different from the other.

She had never been here before, the only time she was close to where Spencer lived he never took her home, he said that he didn't want to confuse her and that his place was too small for her to spend the night. Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't.

It was night, close to ten o'clock. The house by which Tobias stopped the car was washed in the light that came from within and through open windows she could hear the sound of laughter and joy.

"The rest aside of Dave's and Sheba's twins with their girls are already there it would seem," Tobias said when he turned off the ignition.

Then the laughter and joy wasn't coming from within, she was no longer a bystander but a participant.

They let her to be the first to greet Spencer, grinning Spencer who probably a moment before had laughed from a joke which Dave said because Dave never met a joke he didn't like. On his shoulders was sitting the boy with blue eyes and blonde hair whom she recognized as his godson and seated in his arms was the girl.

Long, slightly curly brown hair and the same big brown eyes as Spencer's. It was her. It was Cynthia.

It took her one look, one glance to know how she knew nearly thirty … _had so many years had passed…_ thirty years ago that she was special, that she was perfect and she was special and she was perfect because she was Spencer's daughter.

Upon seeing her Cynthia's face brightened and she extended her arms… _to her_, not to Janine who was still standing in the hall but to her. To her grandmother.

_Grandmother_. Her hidden deepest desire and the wildest dream. _She was a grandmother_.

And somehow in next moment the girl was in her arms, wrapping her arms around her neck and kissing her cheek.

There was silence and there were tears. Then there was another kiss pressed to her cheek, the other one. More voices of children, polite but filled with joy. More faces and more names.

Jack, Zack, Rory, Molly… kids whose along with Henry Spencer was baby-sitting for the weekend. Bright, smiling faces, polite greetings.

She fell into it. Sitting on the floor of the living-room like a kid herself, not like an adult and a woman of not prime youth. Watching them drawing pictures while the others were talking. Eyes travelling between Cynthia and Henry to the others.

_Taking it in, breathing it in._

Like she took it, breathed it now.

Spencer's house despite its size from outside on the inside wasn't as big as it looked, spacious yes, but not big and sleeping space was short. She heard that Spencer's neighbor gave over for the family to use two bedrooms, the living-room and the kitchen (to Sheba's delight but Sheba actually never met a kitchen she didn't like).

Sheba and Dave along with Spartin and Mina went over to that house for the night, so did Tim and Tina. Tobias and Janine had stayed with the twins and took two couches in Spencer's living-room.

Spencer after quick discussion, during which he was _the losing side_, with the oldest of the baby-sat bunch, Molly, had left his study and quite comfortable futon at her disposal. It was very thoughtful of the girl to offer the place in which she was staying to her and to chose the floor in Spencer's bedroom where Spencer rounded up the rest of the kids for the night.

Except Diana wasn't tired at all. She slept through the flight so after the girl's yawns became a bit too wide Diana quickly herded her back to the room the girl not so long ago conceded to her and wrapped a blanket around her.

From the armchair she could observe all occupants of the bed. By the wall, the oldest boy if she remembered correctly, Zack, then blonde-haired girl named Rory, sandwiched between Zack and the other boy, Jack. Henry, Spencer's godson was sleeping with his head pressed slightly to Cynthia's back.

But Cynthia herself was a sight she drunk from. Sleeping on her stomach, left knee slightly curled so she wasn't fully on her stomach, left arm hanging from the foot of the bed, her fingers wrapped tightly around Spencer's left forefinger because Spencer himself slept on the floor, with his left hand stretched to Cynthia and left knee propped up.

And she knew, instinctually like mother's always do, that Spencer will protect his baby girl as fiercely if not more as he once and still protected her.

She knew what he didn't know, not yet, because she knew that he was still too shocked, too surprised and too much thrown off the loop of reason and logic to rationalize the situation. She knew that he will continue being who he was and doing what he did because he chased monsters and now he had someone on his own to protect from them, his daughter.

But Spencer was a smart boy and eventually when the chaos will turn into the order he will figure it out on his own. He didn't need her to tell him that.

If only she could see them more often to continue drinking in the sight of her baby boy with his baby girl. Perhaps…

She was derailed from her train of thoughts by a soft gasp coming from the bed.

She reacted on instinct like mother's always do and she was kneeling by the right side of the bed, petting reddish blonde hair and making shushing noises within seconds.

The boy, Jack, however didn't calm down and continue to sleep but sat up and stared at her with his big, brown eyes, breathing fast and held his arms to her.

She extended hers and slowly picked him up.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked gently.

Jack nodded quickly and whispered, "George hurt mum again and he hurt dad too. I called but no one heard me."

"It's okay," she said. "George can't hurt you here."

"I know," Jack said quietly. "Dad said that he can't hurt us anymore but I'm still scared. Uncle Spencer is great but I wish that dad was here. He tells me about mum after I have a bad dream. Is it bad to wish that someone hurt George before he hurt mum?"

_Hurt_ in his words had a deeper meaning, terrifying meaning for a child, _death_. Death of a parent, and a mother on that.

Where was Cynthia's mother? She didn't ask for that too enchanted by her mere presence but she had to ask about her later. Later because Cynthia was sleeping and she was safe and Spencer was by her side but Jack's father wasn't.

"Do you want to call your dad?" she asked.

Jack nodded quickly.

"Do you know his number?" she asked.

"Uncle Spencer has it in his telephone," Jack said pensively.

_Has it in his telephone_ which meant that devilish inventions called cell phones she despised but Spencer relayed on them like on a crutch because he had two of them.

"Do you know where he had it last time?" she asked.

She saw one on the bedside table nearby and reached for it.

The man couldn't be under _Jack's Dad_ of that she was sure.

"What's your surname Jack?" she asked.

"Hotchner," Jack answered.

Somehow she managed to enter the register of numbers and names and scrolled down to Hanson, past Herbert, Hopkins and stopped on Hotch. She scrolled down and saw Gastin.

"Hotch," she said as she looked up at the boy.

"Uncle Derek calls dad like that during picnics," Jack said pensively.

It could be the man or it could be not, either way for the call they needed to go somewhere where it wouldn't interrupt other kids sleeping.

"We will call your dad in a moment but first we need to leave the room so we won't wake the others and somewhere that's comfortable," she told Jack.

"Uncle Spencer has a swing on the porch, it's very comfortable," Jack said.

Somehow they managed to get downstairs and went to the back of the house through the dinning-room. Quickly she spotted the blanket hanging on the swing and after she sat down on the swing she bundled it around Jack so the boy wouldn't catch a cold.

Then once again she checked the register, saw that it was still on Hotch and pressed green button before she brought the phone to her ear.

There were three rings she waited through before she heard more yawned than spoken, "Hotchner."

"Mr Hotchner, it's Diana Reid, Spencer's mother," she said quickly. "Jack wants to talk with you," she gave the boy the phone.

She hugged the boy a bit tighter and wrapped her cardigan around his back and waited patiently until his breath deepened and the phone fell from his fingers into his lap.

She picked it up because his father might be worried that something happened to the boy.

"Jack?" Mr Hotchner asked sleepily.

"He is sleeping," she said softly. "I will be insensitive Mr Hotchner but can I ask what happened to his mother?"

"She was murdered," the answer was soft.

"Did you got him?" she asked.

"I did," was even softer than before, "but I was too late. I saved Jack…"

"That's what matters," she said softly. "To both of you. Don't worry Mr Hotchner, where he is tonight he is safe and protected and I happen to know a house full of overprotective mothers and avenging fathers that would explain to any man who would come within a frying pan's throw distance to a child entrusted into our care that he is not welcomed," she assured him.

"Frying pan's distance?" Mr Hotchner asked curiously.

"Mothers in our family are fiercely overprotective," she explained.

"It seems to be a trait," Mr Hotchner admitted.

"It is," she nodded. "He just doesn't know it yet."

"R… Spencer?" Mr Hotchner asked. "And his daughter?"

"So you know about her?" she asked.

"He called me about the leave," he said.

"He will come back, for her," she said. "He just doesn't know it yet. But he will come back, Mr Hotchner. Mother always knows."

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><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>

_Next chapter: Reid vs the rest of the family, quick handbook on how to lose one's mind in a span of few hours. Most probably also Garcia but I wouldn't put any of my body parts on that account, I know where is she but the timeline requires small tweaking._


	10. Chapter 10: Bothers

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

_Chapter summary: Reid's Sunday looks better than his Saturday... looks. A little bit of backstory, some inner mussing and in general hilarity that involves Reid's cousins, Garcia and Morgan (and not necessarily in that order). _

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><p><strong>Chapter ten: B<strong>**(r)others.**

Behavioral Analysis Unit in belief of many agents from field offices was the most prestigious and elite unit and getting transferred to BAU was a huge honor and the dream of every cadet.

That becoming a BAUer was his dream he knew right from the first minute of the invitation lecture Gideon had given at Cal-Tech at the beginning of Reid's last year in California when he was working on his dissertations from Chemistry and Mechanical Engineering. He knew that he was too socially awkward to pursue academic career and that he was too much of a blinker to use his knowledge in private sector. It was the year when he started to look for a purpose and going to invitation lecture wasn't exactly spur of a moment decision. He was looking for opportunities.

Looking back from the perspective of years that passed since that day he made from himself quite an annoying nuisance with his never-ending questions and constant babbling. Gideon could have send him away and tell him to not bother him but he answered every question about FBI and BAU which Reid had, and he had tons of them. Perhaps he did so because unlike other participants of the lecture Reid had found profiling greatly interesting and with his varied knowledge he was able to provide few new points, ascertain few old ones, mismatch another few and don't catch the cue on other few. For someone with no training in profiling it was quite a success.

Come next year with three PhD under his belt he was in DC and in Georgetown University cramming into his schedule as many classes on psychology and sociology as humanly possible and using his spare time to learn as much about profiling as possible.

He made it through three semesters without much of a trouble until he saw the flyer on the notice board with the details about the lecture on negotiating techniques.

He sat on the lecture, took notes until his right hand rebelled and cramped, asked questions to which other listeners rolled their eyes and made from himself quite a nuisance in front of a BAUer yet again.

The BAUer in question this time was Hotch who, like Gideon before, answered every question Reid threw at him and, bless him for that, encouraged Reid to apply for the FBI academy right away instead of waiting until he would turn twenty-three.

Reid himself was dubious that his knowledge would prevail over the fact that he was twenty-one and had found himself greatly surprised when he was accepted. How much of smoothing the way for him it took Hotch and Gideon he didn't wish to learn, ever. But he was eternally grateful that they DID smooth the path for him, Hotch more than Gideon.

But it was the graduation which made him realize how much desired BAU was between the cadets and he was grateful for the reassuring and comforting presence of Hotch and Gideon after the ceremony because he had a feeling that if it wasn't for them the other cadets wouldn't have problems with drowning him in the toilet for having his first assignment in the most prestigious and most desired unit where freshly graduated cadets just DIDN'T get assigned.

Needless to say while BAU was the most desired and most prestigious unit many agents had no idea how much of a pressure cooker Behavioral Analysis Unit was until they actually got into it. Some couldn't stand it, some could, some ended transferring to different units, some ended quitting FBI altogether.

If BAU itself was a pressure cooker then Alpha team was an espresso machine within the cooker but unlike cadets the members of the remaining teams had absolutely no desire to transfer to Alpha team. Cooperate occasionally? Why not. Actually transfer? Thanks, but no thanks.

It was the intensity of the team that kept other teams in safe distance, _supposedly_ out of self-preservation. Alpha team had an opinion that kept between teams transfers limited to the second in seniority Beta team at best. To put it on visuals, like Rob Anderson from team Beta had once tried to explain to Reid when on Hotch's orders he was trying to _vibe_ which one of the other BAUers would be the keenest to transfer to Alpha team: BAU was a lagoon, other teams were the atoll and Alpha team was the island in the middle. Other teams _were fluid_, Alpha team _was __**not**_.

In a way Anderson was right, they did have the seniority, the privileges that came from successfully closed cases, they scored the highest points on team integrity tests. They hardly screwed up, but when they screwed up, they screwed up big.

One of the major screw ups was Adrian Bale. The Bureau lost six agents thanka to Bale. BAU lost three of them, all three from Alpha team. The number would be higher if it wasn't for a construction site which stopped the SUV with Hotch, Morgan and him inside.

The subject of family had a tendency to resurface in BAU once in a while, mostly on the grounds of spouses and children, sometimes on the grounds of parents and very rarely on the grounds of siblings.

But within their team unlike in other teams because of their fluidity family related subjects hardly surfaced unless it was something bad aside of few talks in '_an alpha males plus Reid sandbox'_ how JJ once described the team shortly after she joined them.

It was during one of those talks when it occurred to Reid why after few weeks of casual neutrality Morgan had pretty much adopted him as a younger brother, especially after Carter, _the Great Ass May He Rest in Peace Regardless_ had profiled (in spite of Hotch's death glower) Reid as an only child which Reid himself only confirmed. During the same conversation Reid learned that Morgan had two sisters which pretty much explained brotherly teasing.

That he was born as an only child it didn't mean that he was never exposed to brother-like relationships but because he didn't want Morgan to turn into Carter who despised Reid on daily basis and avoided being paired up with him like a plague Reid kept his mouth shut.

In reality he was exposed to brothers on annual basis since he graduated from high school and because his mum had agreed with his aunts that a change of scenery for the summer would do both of them good after the tribe council in April day after graduation Uncle Spartin and Aunt Mina flew to Vegas, packed Reid and his mum to her Volvo and they drove them all the way to Maine for the majority of the summer.

So in the end while Samson and Danny weren't his brothers, at least not in blood because on blood related level they were cousins they **did** treat him like the older brother and they relayed on his mediating nature.

And for Reid it was nice to have cousins who didn't want to lock him in the barn, throw him from the cliff or to bestow on him similar 'pleasantries'.

Born as identical twins when it came to their personalities they were the exact opposite to one another. Somehow it worked and after initial whispering between themselves they both agreed to adopt _cousin_ Sawyer (because like all Reids they were stubborn and in their eight years old at that time logic the only Spencer Reid in close vicinity could be Uncle Spartin so they quickly adopted for Reid the nickname which Uncle Spartin had given him) as their 'older, wiser and non-twin brother' (and it was the direct quote).

Over the years previous relative closeness had drifted apart due to the distance and time difference between Hilo and DC but on occasions they still talked on variety of subjects. For the two of them he was still the older, wiser and non-twin brother who ended mediating between them if the worst came to worst.

When Samson was getting married he made both Danny and Reid his best men and Reid managed to wriggle himself out from being Rose's and Linda's godfather by the claim that godparents should be people who played major role in the life of the kids and parents which pretty much excluded him as someone who couldn't even get proper vacation time to visit Hawaii.

That claim didn't stop Samson from showing off his girls to Reid via Skype and bestowing in his general direction continuous threats of hauling him to Hawaii at some unspecified point of time. In so far Samson and Danny had yet to kidnap him like they threatened but that didn't stop them from delivering him the riot act along with the rest of their threat which was tying him to the palm tree so he wouldn't run away.

Well… the beanpole wasn't exactly a palm tree but it wasn't a goalpost either and the only artifacts of clothing which was taken from him was his tie and his buckle which were used to tie his hands and legs to the beanpole so while he felt slightly uncomfortable in the vulnerability of his current position he also knew that it will take the tribe council few minutes at the most to arrive to the conclusion what to do with the Big White Face that trespassed the sacred land of the Red Reid tribe and if not then he still had his Mum who was sitting at the garden table twenty feet away from him and was peeling off the tangerines for the kids so he could always howl that Sammy and Danny were being mean to him.

"I'm the Highest Shaman, Spencer," she said calmly. "I can tell the high council to reach the conclusion faster."

"I'm not that uncomfortable Mum," he answered in equally calm voice. "Besides knowing Samson he is making big theatrics out of making the rdecision. I always wondered how he ended leading a resort in Hawaii when he has much better, natural I should add, predisposition to be either an actor or a teacher in kindergarten."

"He looked up to you," his mum said simply. "Danny looked up to him and he looked up to you. You taught him math and how to pay attention to patterns and while you make a living from reading the patterns math is also well paid. Tangerine, Spencer?"

"Maybe in few minutes," Reid shrugged. "The highest council should be reaching the decision right about now," he added in a loud and clear voice for the tribe to hear him.

He sincerely hoped that he was right. It wasn't that he wouldn't manage to free himself because it was a piece of cake but it was like in the folktale, if you can't scratch yourself you start to itch and he really, **really** had to scratch his nose. Damn Samson, damn Danny and damn the quarter that he flipped hoping on tails to avoid being the Cowboy on Indian territory. Except with his luck it fell on heads and he ended as quickly disarmed and tied to the beanpole cowboy.

As a scientist he didn't believe in luck. He believed in planning, analysis and foreseeing the different outcomes based on facts but some things always remained unforeseen until the moment they actually happened. Like starting the day from a wrong foot which sent him into a state close to panic attack when he woke up, made the headcount of the kids and realized that he was missing Jack. He found Jack, with his Mum, dozing on the swing with his cell-phone in his lap.

Then he had to plan averting next crisis which was Aunt Bathsheba being Aunt Bathsheba with a plan and her other sisters-in-law to join in the scheming of how to pair one reluctant Spencer with one utterly amused Cameron. Cameron herself averted that crisis by giving him a pointed look and saying that she had to work today (which was a lie because before the weekend had started they both agreed to help one another clear off the garages for the incoming annual charity auction which had been running for few years by now and from which benefited pediatric oncology at GUH). But before she disappeared she signaled to him that she was going to look for Ruby so in the end **he was** pleased with the outcome and his aunts **were not**.

If that crisis was the highlight of the morning he would be glad to accept it because next crisis showed up two minutes after Cameron left with the threats of equipping him with a tablet, iPhone and infesting his computers with a Trojan that would make Swiss Cheese from his system with Arabic subtitles (and he didn't knew Arabic).

Getting out of Garcia, because she was the source of these very realistic threats, what made her so angry with him was even harder because right after she delivered her threat of messing with his electronic devices the rest of the family, drawn by the noise, had gravitated towards the front door which threw Garcia out of the loop for all but forty-two seconds until the final nail to Reid's coffin was delivered by no one else but Cynthia.

Cynthia, who got scared by Garcia and her hissed threats under his address, and who made a beeline to her anchor within the madness that answered to various names and one surname also known as the family alternatively pleading Garcia to _leave her daddy alone_ and _for her daddy to not leave her_.

That threw Garcia off the loop again and probably in the worst moment possible which Samson and Danny had picked up to arrive from the airport which lead to two comments which pretty much summed up the entire scene.

Reid's, in Samson's direction, **direct** quote from Hotch: "What, did you join a boy band?"

Samson's in Reid's direction, "No, I didn't but apparently you are a psychic and at some point you foresaw a toddler in your future and you decided on having your hair cut by an adult."

Which brought Garcia's focus back to Cynthia and the dawning realization that her Baby Einstein had a kid on his own. More specifically a kid she wasn't informed about.

Except by the time the second part had sunk Reid had done something she didn't expect him to do. He strengthened his hold on Cynthia, who climbed into his arms during her pleading, said that he was going to get her a cup of water and in utterly unprofessional and completely cowardly manner barricaded himself with Cynthia in his workshop before it occurred to anyone that his kitchen wasn't accessible by the porch door through which he left the house.

He only opened the door after Samson and Molly assured him that his Aunts and Uncles had left with Garcia to do shopping for Cynthia and that the only people left inside the house was him, his Mum, Samson, Danny and all of the kids.

While he was hiding in the workshop the rest of the kids had breakfast and got to know each other a bit better.

Molly, as the oldest, twelve years old hit off quite nicely with eleven years old Chip and Dale the day before and continued their discussion from yesterday about supposed Disney's classics for their generation with strong emphasis on supposed which according to Samson meant that to them Disney's starlets had zero appeal which only meant that their parents reasonably taught them to appreciate Disney's Classics with capital C and not what passed for classics nowadays. When Reid asked for clarification Samson only shook his head and said that Reid didn't have to worry about those for the next decade or with any luck ever.

Zack didn't get into any discussion but from Chip's or Dale's divided attention he managed to get two rounds of memory games.

Rose and Linda, both five going six and therefore to school in the fall got on a common, curious ground with Jack and together they pestered Danny about his memories from elementary school.

Rory and Henry got happily occupied with coordination improving toys under his Mum's watchful eye, from where these toys came from Reid had pretty good idea but had chosen to not comment on that.

After confirming that all kids were accounted for and that his credit card went missing (and he had pretty good idea who had it) the ass who answered to the name of Danny Reid suggested playing Indian and Cowboys.

His Mum ended saying that games like that had a tendency to turn barbaric and at first denied participation until Samson negotiated with her the position of _The Highest and Mightiest Shaman, The Source of All Wisdom and Spiritual and Physical Comfort_ (title longer than the actual post of the observer and supplier of freshly peeled off tangerines for ever hungry in spite of having breakfast tribe).

Reid lost his supporting cowboys, Chip and Dale within ten minutes of having the tribe chasing after them around the house to Molly's simple: "Only the tribe gets tangerines."

He was caught after ten minutes of pursuit and ended being sentenced to _The Beanpole of Shame_ until the tribe would decide what they should do with the resisting cowboy.

But because apparently the luck in which he didn't believe in still wasn't on his side not only he was imprisoned and itching but apparently he was going to give Morgan an attack of hysterical laughter as soon as it would occur to him to check the backyard in search of Reid and Clooney. At least that would be the case if Morgan, who probably saw the disaster in the living-room didn't burst into the backyard with a gun trained on him and wouldn't manage to shot Reid by accident.

Normally he wouldn't be worrying about things like that but during the weekend he had learned that anything was possible. Really, anything.

On Friday morning he was a single bachelor whose highlight of the weekend was clearing of the garage, reading a book or two and finishing the reports between watching various documentaries. On Sunday morning he was a single father of a three years old daughter, surrounded (maybe not at the moment) with visiting family, **still** not cleared off garage and the pile of **still** unfinished reports which he was supposed to hand over on Monday morning and somewhere in between he managed to get mauled by Clooney, crippled by gravity and shot in both arms with one bullet, not to mention physical assault from the hazard-loving veteran, tongue lashing from the well meaning old ladies and desperate predators that preyed on single men that went along with children.

So, yes, his chances for getting shot for the second time in a span of twenty-seven hours were pretty high.

"Reid?" Morgan's voice sounded alarmed as it carried through the entire house into the backyard.

"Backyard!" Reid hollered. "And holster your gun, I don't want to get shot by accident."

It took Morgan five seconds to cross the length of the house to stop in the doorway between the dinning-room and the porch and five more to take in the picture in front of him.

Come to think about it if Reid was in his place and saw his colleague tied to a beanpole while the mother of aforementioned colleague was calmly and slowly peeling off the tangerines at the garden table, apparently not worried about her tied up son he would have _equally_ stupid expression on his face.

Sure enough the job required from them to be prepared for every eventuality but some things didn't make the long list scenarios for which every BAUer should be prepared for.

"Reid?" Morgan asked carefully. "What you are doing?"

"Contemplating the life of a beanpole, Morgan," Reid said simply. "Want a tangerine?"

"And what kind of a conclusion you reached?" Morgan asked calmly as he stepped down the stairs into the backyard.

"That I was very inhuman to my beanpoles," Reid shrugged. "I made them stand in the garden for days and nights for years and not even once I asked them if they were itching or needing to go to the bathroom," he added as he glared at the door to his workshop.

"Reid are you okay?" Morgan asked in a voice meant for really dissociated unsubs.

"I'm perfectly okay," Reid said simply. "Mum, tell Morgan that I'm okay."

"He is okay," his Mum said simply. "He was resisting during the capture but he showed courage and determination so now he is waiting for the sentence of the tribe. Tangerine, Agent Morgan?"

The door to the workshop in which the Tribe was holding the council very slowly and very quietly opened and slowly and quietly Danny and Samson with halos on their heads which the found in Cameron's garage and a mop and broomstick in hands inched towards unsuspecting Morgan. Suddenly Samson waved at the inside and like a bullet Clooney tore from the workshop into the garden, tackled Morgan to the ground and proceed to extensively greet his master.

"You entered the sacred land of the Red Reiding Tribe, trespasser," Samson declared in his best voice of an Indian chief. "You were overpowered by our brave fighter, The Tail Waggling Dog With Pointy Ears but because you didn't fight as bravely as The Big White Face That Moves His Nose Like a Rabbit…"

_Thank you, Chief Samson With The Cooper Halo, you jerk_, Reid mused inwardly.

"… therefore you will be sentenced to the Beanpole of Shame before the tribe will kill you by throwing the peels from the Powerful Tangerines," Samson finished and after a moment of consideration during which luckily for everyone involved Morgan didn't shot him he added, "Or you can appeal to the Highest Shaman over there," he motioned with his head at Reid's Mum.

"Feed him with a tangerine I say," his Mum said simply. "But first untie your cousin from the beanpole Samson or next time you will be the beanpole and Spencer will be the chief."

"But Auntie Diana…" Samson whined.

"You made me the Highest Shaman, I outrank you Chief Samson, untie Spencer," his Mum said simply.

"You heard the Highest Shaman, Chief Samson, untie me before I will proceed to fry your brain with historical inaccuracies and you had given me ten minutes to prepare it," Reid said simply.

"Fine, be a spoilsport Sawyer," Samson snorted. "Fry my brain my…"

"Samson!" Reid's Mum hissed. "Tangerines, my brave tribe," she waved at the kids.

"Little ears," Reid said dryly when Samson started untying him.

"Reid?" Morgan asked carefully.

"Can you specify which one?" Danny asked dryly. "Because there are nine people in here who can answer to that surname, four if you are counting adults."

"Stop messing with his mind, Danny Boy," Reid said simply as he massaged his wrists while he approached Morgan. "My mum you'd meet before. But those two horrors I sincerely doubt so," he added as he looked down at Morgan. "The Poodle over there," he waved at Danny, "is Danny Reid. The Boy Band Boy with the cooper halo is Samson, his twin…"

"Eviler twin," Samson coughed.

"Eviler twin," Reid added quickly. "Two darkest heads in that bunch," Reid pointed at the kids at the table, "are Rose and Linda, Samson's daughters. Jack and Henry you know and Molly, Zack and Rory you also might have seen before but if not there are the blonde ones. Remaining three are Chip and Dale, also Reid and also my cousins like the other two…"

He stopped and took a deep breath.

"The last one, Cynthia is my daughter, keep the riot act until quieter times and take into account that Garcia already delivered me one…"

"While you were hiding in the workshop," Samson interjected unhelpfully. "Doesn't count as proper delivery."

"Bite me, Sammy," Reid muttered.

"Kiss my butt, Sawyer," Samson rolled his eyes.

"Have you ever encountered the power of a Storming Stork, Samson?" Reid glared at him.

"Is that the move you invented during the training that has you tripping over your own shoes while you are trying to tackle your opponent?" Samson asked innocently.

"And that's why Sammy is the eviler twin," Danny shrugged.

"You aren't considering the life of a beanpole, are you?" Morgan asked cautiously.

"Of course not," Reid shrugged. "What made you think that?"

"Let me think about it," Morgan said simply, made a longer pause and added pointedly, "You? Sawyer?"

"Don't ask and you won't learn any incriminating details," Reid said simply as he dragged Clooney away from Morgan so he could sit up.

"How many of them we are talking about?" Morgan asked skeptically.

"A few?" Reid supplied.

"Say cousins or daughter you never mentioned before?" Morgan glared at him.

"Not that I'm getting involved in that '_what you didn't say_' discussion…" Samson interjected. "But to Sawyer's defense he learned that he has a daughter about eighteen hours ago and most of that time he spent either in shock or sleeping. As for us… I guess that grandpa Spencer's productiveness never came up in a conversation before."

"Nice," Reid coughed. "Morgan, little help," he extended his hand to Morgan knowing very well that he wouldn't be able to pick him up. "You two," he glared at Samson and Danny, "I'm leaving my only daughter under your care, she better be in the same condition I left her when I will come back or you will end in the target practice and not as shooters."

"Threat duly noted, Sawyer," Samson shrugged. "You are forgetting that I have TWO daughters and ONE idiotic brother."

"Hey!" Danny huffed. "I'm their godfather."

"Not because my first choice godfather left me much of a choice," Samson muttered.

"Because your first choice godfather has only ONE daughter and TWO idiotic brothers," Reid snorted. "And did you know that only one letter makes brother different from a bother?"

"Don't argue with him, Samson," Danny said simply. "You know that Sawyer will maneuver you into the corner and if he is starting to bring up brother-bother line you are two minutes away from being intellectually pummeled into the ground. Not to mention emotionally coerced."

"I said that I have one IDIOTIC brother," Samson said simply. "My other brother is a provable genius and last time I checked idiotic and genius were mutually exclusive."

"Not if we are talking about savants and I wouldn't be using the term idiotic…" Reid interjected.

"Well I might not have a PhD from abnormal psychology but I do read, Sawyer, and as far as I know savants are geniuses in only one area and non-geniuses in other areas," Samson rolled his eyes.

"So what does it make you?" Danny asked curiously.

"Middle child," Samson deadpanned. "Eat your tangerines, Danny Boy."

"Bother," Danny coughed.

"Boys…" Reid's Mum sighed. "You are fathers… and godfathers, try to set an example."

"Somewhere in there was a double kick for you, Sawyer," Samson grinned. "You are actually both of them at the same time."

"I don't know," Reid rolled his eyes. "I do have one daughter and one godson but you have two daughters and Danny has two goddaughters so pretty much we are on even ground."

"If that's an example we are supposed to follow…" Chip muttered.

"Chip!" Reid, Samson and Danny hissed in unison.

"I'm Dale, seriously, you are calling ourselves our cousins and you are unable to tell us apart," presumed Chip who was apparently Dale quipped.

"Do you even manage to tell your daughters apart?" the Real Chip asked curiously.

"Of course I can," Samson protested. "They are fraternal twins."

"Fraternal?" the twins asked.

"Google it," Danny coughed.

"It means that they are not as bothersome as you," Samson snorted.

"Morgan. Kitchen. Coffee. Now," Reid muttered.

By the time they made it to the kitchen Reid started considering calling Cameron and asking for a nice and secluded room with padded walls she threatened to put him in on Friday evening. Back then the possibility of ending there was insulting and bothersome but as the weekend progressed spending three days in there seemed _almost_ comforting.

And as long as _almost_ was **almost** he still had some degrees of sanity left which excluded prolonged stay in the seclusion until whatever remained from his composure would decide to throw itself into Potomac.

"You have a busy weekend Pretty Boy," Morgan said finally.

"No kidding," Reid groaned. "And don't call me that."

"You never objected to that nickname before," Morgan said simply. "But since…"

"It's not since!" Reid hissed. "I'm not giving Danny any more ammunition than he already has. The last thing I actually need is having him question my sexuality at loud in front of the whole family and especially on grounds that are not …"

"Okay, Kid," Morgan shrugged. "No Pretty Boys for as long as you from two years ago and you from boy band phase…" Reid glared at him and crossed his arms over his chest, "are around," Morgan finished. "But if you wouldn't mind I would like to learn more about your daughter."

"She was born 13th January 2008 which makes her three years and five months old. Born in thirty-eighth week according to her medical records puts the day of conception somewhere between 27-30 April 2007 and I'm not going to pinpoint exact date because during that weekend we were on stand down and I was high," Reid muttered grimly. "To answer your next question which goes along the line how do I know for sure that she is my daughter. I don't know, no paternity tests in so far were involved but I do have eyes and enough knowledge about genetics to know that birthmarks are dominant. We have exactly the same birthmarks on our left arms and I can safely attest that between early March and early May I was involved with her mother. To answer another question you are having, I don't know where she is now. I'm working on it… or rather someone else is working on it but to sum it all up Cynthia's stay with me is going to be permanent…"

"Breath," Morgan interrupted him swiftly. "Everything is f…"

"Don't even finish it," Reid groaned. "If you will say it something bad is going to happen and taking into account everything that happened since I left Quantico on Friday afternoon it will be something bad and in one hundred percent it will hit no one else but me. In so far I was assaulted by well-meaning old ladies that should mind their own business, hazard loving veterans discharged for disrespect, I was subjected to the dubious performance of The Berkeley-Hotchner Howling Band with Henry LaMontagne and Whining Alsatian Named Clooney doing the choirs… Then I got the scare of my life… I took the kids out for breakfast because electricity was down and I got shot in both arms with one and the same bullet and I'm not even mentioning spilled milk and second degree burns. When I took the kids later to zoo I was assaulted not exactly in that order by gravity, little red Corvette and three desperate women looking for men that got along with children. To make my day even better the psychopath that made my last year at Cal-Tech a living hell decided that it would be great to round up his brothers and nephews to chase me out of my house and home… Learning that I'm a father was just a proverbial cherry on the top. Do not say the f word around me unless you want to call for a wagon with straight jacket."

"Okay," Morgan smirked. "Sounds like a busy weekend."

"And this day has yet to end," Reid sighed. "As for today I almost had one panic attack when I couldn't find Jack then when I found him I had to put an end to my aunts' scheming. Before I managed to recover Garcia came around and after that pretty much everything went to hell. Apparently she sees a tablet in my future along with either complete upgrade of all my electronic devices or degradation to painting messages on walls… Oh, and she took my aunts and uncles shopping and she has my credit card."

"I'm sure that she means well," Morgan said calmly. "With the shopping trip, I mean."

"If I wasn't sure of that too I would be calling my bank and asking to block it," Reid muttered. "I'm sorry that I didn't call earlier … Scratch that, I'm not sorry, I knew that the rest of you needed to be where you were… are and that's why I didn't call, that's why I didn't call Garcia because calling her completely defeated the purpose of waiting patiently until all of you are back home… Hotch is the only one that learned about Cynthia yesterday and mostly because he called me while the kids were playing and somehow I ended informing him that his son knocked up my daughter which is not true because he only knocked her **over** during the game and everything was f… okay. So in so far from Monday on for next two weeks I'm on a leave and I have absolutely no idea what is going to happen after that."

"None whatsoever?" Morgan asked skeptically.

"None. Nada. Zilch," Reid confirmed quickly. "Right now the only thing I'm completely sure of is that all decisions I'm either making or going to make in near future have to be the best for my daughter. I don't even know what is going to happen once my leave will end. Perhaps she will adjust to having me away, perhaps she won't. Perhaps I will have to take another leave, perhaps I will have to negotiate desk duty for few months or I will have to completely change the job. I have absolutely no idea."

"Well I have," Morgan said with small smile. "Concentrate on doing the best by your daughter and yourself…" Reid started shaking his head in protest, "Yes, Kid, by your daughter and yourself because your daughter deserves to have her daddy happy and content with his life. You concentrate on that and you will allow the rest of us to help you with everything else…"

"How about being a buffer between me and Garcia?" Reid asked hopefully. "I don't want a complete upgrade of everything electronic…"

"Okay I will _try_ to be a buffer between you two," Morgan smirked.

* * *

><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>

_Little explanation on Diana's mussing from last chapter because the way she names her in laws might seem confusing. Janine and Tobias are the same people Reid refers to as Uncle Toby and Aunt Nina._

_As for why I had taken a leap from Reid getting a hug from non-specifically named aunt through Diana's POV and leaped into Sunday? Not because I was lazy... Okay, I was, a little and I have a pretty annoying migraine for an excuse... What happened between the end of chapter eight and the beginning of chapter ten will make it into the story in later chapters but in references rather than actual scenes. But on the brighter side I'm inclined to throw in the team's point of vision into the mix as long as my migraine would go away (to make it more convincing I DO have Garcia's POV)_

_Next chapter: The Unholy (Re)Union. Possible meeting of not exactly in that order of the team with the Reid family. Buckle your seat-belts._


	11. Chapter 11: Bruised Purple

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

_Chapter summary: Titled Bruised Purple quite appropriately because: a) Reid gets bruised somewhere in there and b) he is starting to consider having serious issues with color purple. The chapter also contains severe freak out and Reid's **downplay** to the level of a moron (both intentionally and unintentionally due to severe shock). It also contains the Kitten because Kitten's appearance and his comments were to funny to let them pass (but do not worry, while Kitten is contained in this chapter also in the same chapter he gets a boot to Orlando, Florida and he doesn't show up in following chapters). _

_**Time line wise the beginning and the very end of this chapter takes place at Sunday around ten to eleven AM while the rest describes Saturday evening**. Yes, it's the promised heavy references of what happened after the end of chapter eight and yes, there will be at the very least one, possibly two but no more than three chapters which happen on Sunday and heavily reference what happened on Saturday._

_And sorry for disturbing beginning but even Reid has his own limits and in so far they got severely tapdanced upon in last few chapters._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter eleven<strong>**: Bruised Purple.**

They were gone for two hours. **Just** two hours and about two hours too long.

He was a provable genius with an eidetic memory, intelligence quotient of 187 and he could read with the speed of 20 000 words per minute. Except right now he felt like a moron, literally. Intelligence quotient of 60 at best with memory of a gold fish and speed-reading somewhere in negatives.

He _should have_ know better. He _should have_ predicted that something like that would happen. He _should be_ prepared for it and he _should have_ taken countermeasures. Like asking JJ or Cameron or even Jessica. They were experienced and reasonable mothers. Hell, he should have asked all three of them and together they would round up everything he was going to need and keep the list in **reasonable** boundaries. Both in finances and fanciness.

Bureau paid well enough. Not exactly coconuts and not even close to what he could get if he ever wandered into private sector but for him it was enough and when it wasn't enough there were always guests lectures which paid a pretty penny and if he _REALLY_ needed money there was poker and Vegas… Reno… Atlantic City… Virginia Beach…

From how everything looked he was going to spend major part of his leave _trying_ to not get blacklisted while repairing his budget at every casino he was remotely familiar with.

_Why he didn't ask anyone reasonable for help?_

Right, he was hiding in his workshop and at the moment it didn't occur him to grab his wallet before he separated himself from the rest.

That's how men fell preys to female serial killers, they got separated from the group, followed her into secluded area and then when they were least expecting it… **WHAM!**

He shook his head quickly. He really shouldn't think about female serial killers right now because if he did then he would have to allow his mind to _consider_ the possibility that the grinning, glittery pinky Garcia who was looking at him expectantly was a serial killer.

He shook his head again. Perhaps not she wasn't a serial but if he won't react positively to what she was showing him then his life might be in jeopardy and he really didn't want that.

_Focus, you dolt. Take a deep breath and say something nice._

"It's purple," he finally managed to sputter.

_Brilliant genius. Some reaction…_

"Of course it's purple my Baby Einstein," Garcia quipped. "It's your favorite color."

"One of…" he muttered. "Garcia, I don't buy everything that comes around just because it's purple," he sighed. "Sure I favor purple and lilac if I can but not everything that I own is purple."

"Naturally my vision," Garcia agreed. "Too much is too much."

_Seriously? Perhaps it's time to try different approach…_

"Colors aside, Garcia," he said calmly. "For a moment forget that you know me. Forget that I'm a genius and I have four doctorates. Right now Doctor Reid goes for a walk and you are talking with the biggest cretin you ever encountered in your life. Simplify to me why I need this thing…"

"You don't," she said brightly.

_Exce…_

"You don't but your little sweetness needs it," she smiled at him. "And since we were buying everything she was going to need we also bought this beauty…"

… _llent._

"Garcia," he sighed. "Cynthia is three years and five months old and considering that you just pulled it out from a box can you tell me why do I need a **brand new** stroller which my daughter will use for another year at best?"

"Doesn't your daughter deserves the best?" Garcia asked simply.

"She does but that's not…" he started and stopped in the middle of the sentence.

There, he said it, the magical words and he passed the point from which he could safely return and playing an idiot didn't really help.

"Exactly how much we are talking about Garcia?" he sighed finally.

"Two grands… maybe," Garcia said sheepishly. "We might have gotten a little overboard…"

"A little? Might?" he stressed out sarcastically.

"But three grands will be the highest, pinky swear," Garcia assured him quickly.

Three grands will be the highest… Considering his quite current list of purchases his credit right now was in serious negatives and the vision of spending a week in casino looked more and more real with each passing second…

So was the vision of murdering Garcia. More precisely _using_ her pink shawl to strangle her… and later all of his aunts … and uncles for not stopping the women from…

He needed to get out. He seriously needed to get the fuck out of this house and to be away from all this mess even for five minutes…

Maybe he should start smoking like in his last year at Cal-Tech when he wanted to pass more for a grown up rather than high school runaway. Not that it worked.

He turned on his heel walked on the porch. He absentmindedly noted, not without satisfaction that Samson got wrapped in a blanket and currently was trying to untangle himself and the attention of the kids and remaining adults was concentrated solely on him. So he made a beeline through the porch to Cameron's house, past the dinning-area, up the stairs and he dove into bigger bedroom knowing that both houses were mirrors to one another so if his bedroom had a walk-in closet then so should Cameron's.

He wriggled himself into the corner behind the coats which would obscure him from the view if someone would peek inside in search of him and rubbed his temples hoping that the prickling behind his eyelids won't turn into a full-blown migraine.

Then he brought his knees to his chest, closed his eyes and started thinking when exactly everything started going wrong… When exactly everything went to hell?

**Famous Last Words**

There was something unique about Aunt Clementine's hugs. They were warm, fierce, slightly crushing and they always smelt like apple pie. To be more exact Aunt Tina **always** smelt like apple pie. Not just apples but also cinnamon, caramelized sugar… Apple pie.

He wouldn't survive most of his first year in Georgetown if it wasn't for Aunt Tina and her cooking. Sure he could cook and sure he could work. Except he was _so_ eager to learn about profiling that his classes schedule were clashing with less expendable jobs and he had yet to make a name of himself at Georgetown to get a position on the staff and since he was hell-bent on living close to university he ended living on scraps because his stipendiary majorly paid for his cramped apartment.

He smartened pretty quickly and lessened his schedule by the second semester but only when he started the thirds semester he was able to level the number of classes along with the hours spent at the bookstore. Other than that he published more, mostly mathematics and a little of chemistry because he didn't have time for spending it at the laboratories.

But he still loved Aunt Tina's cooking the best, not that Aunt Bathsheba was a worse cook, Aunt Tina simply lived closer and every excuse was good to drive to Oak Hill for a weekend and to bring home as many homemade pastries, cakes and hams as possible. Even if it meant falling from a horse once in a while.

Uncle Tim and Aunt Tina owned a ranch. They were both doctors of psychology and certified hippo-therapists. So a weekend with them always meant an hour on a horse at the bare minimum.

Generally it meant that he had fresh bruises and bumps when he got back to DC. Once, and he was that much _unlucky_, old Betsy (the only horse which wasn't used in hippotherapy) kicked him in his left shin so hard that he was limping for a week.

In the end while he was far from being professional jockey after years of training he was reasonably skilled rider who had yet to fall from a horse in last four years (and last time he fell off from a horse was when he fell asleep during the ride and woke up too late to stop himself from falling).

And while he tried to convince himself that he didn't have favorites between relatives with whom he was on speaking terms Uncle Tim and Aunt Tina he favored a little more than the other six. Perhaps it was relatively close distance which lead to more visits, perhaps it was a matter of psychological disputes (and he had tons of them, to be completely sincere he wouldn't have pursued PhD from psychology if it wasn't for a distinctive kick from Uncle Tim) or perhaps it was the fact that Uncle Tim and Aunt Tina didn't have children on their own and they treated him like an adopted son.

Perhaps it was all of it but either way he was glad that they were here and that was what mattered. With them around he would be able to…

"Aunt Clementine… I have ribs," Reid chocked out.

"All twenty-four of them against your best efforts, Spencer," Aunt Tina said swiftly as she pulled away from him and gave him a serious look over. "You mostly consist from bones, Pumpkin. Will you ever tell me who has been feeding you because every single time I see you, you look more like Freddie the Hanged."

She told him that every single time he came down to Oak Hill. Freddie the Hanged was how the kids from local school dubbed the old skeleton who looked like he had seen better days… sometime in nineteenth century.

And Aunts Tina (for Clementine) and Nina (for Janine) were equally bad when it came to nagging him about his eating habits. How couldn't they be? They were twins, even if they didn't look like such.

"What happened to your arms, Munchkin?" Tina asked in concern.

"Hot milk," Reid said quickly but unfortunately Jack chose the same moment to say, "Uncle Spencer got shot."

"Like that?" Tim asked skeptically. "What you were doing to get shot like that? Carrying a tray?"

"Exactly that," Reid nodded and realized that he forgot about Hotch hanging on the line. "Hotch, are you still there?"

"Freddie the Hanged?" Hotch asked dryly. "Aunt Clementine?"

"You know that I have your son, nephews and nieces and the time to corrupt them?" Reid asked skeptically.

"You wouldn't dare," Hotch said lightly.

"I can and I will if you keep pushing my buttons," Reid said swiftly. "At the very least I will tell Jess what happened at the Hotchner family reunion and boy I have blackmail material for a decade at the very least and if I can find them I also have some incriminating photos of little Arnie…"

"Monday morning, eight o'clock, you and me and the shooting range," Hotch said quickly. "If you can outshot me you can hand them over to Garcia…"

"You know what they say about overconfidence?" Reid asked innocently. "It makes you a sitting duck."

"SWAT," Hotch coughed.

"Quack," Reid quacked before he turned to Jack and said, "Jack, daddy wanted to talk with you."

"Quack indeed," Tina agreed with him. "At least you took the pie home to get some meat on your bones. Now let's skip over the part where you are convincing me that you aren't anorectic and introduce us to the kids."

Reid looked around. All kids aside of Jack, who wandered off to the corner of the garden to talk with Hotch and Molly who together with Cameron were on the porch were trying their best to stifle their giggles had assembled about ten feet away from him, in a line. From left to right: Zack, Rory, Henry and Cynthia.

"Those are Zack, Rory, Henry and Cynthia. From left to right," Reid said. "The one over there is Jack and the snickering one up there," he motioned between Jack and Molly, "is Molly. Molly, Zack and Rory are Jack's cousins, Jack is the son of my supervisor. Henry is my godson, you saw the pictures and Cynthia…"

"She looks so much like you," Tina sighed as she crouched. "Hello, I'm Tina, Spencer's aunt and this giant over there is Tim…"

"Tiny Tim to bask in the irony," Reid interjected.

"… his uncle," Tim finished dryly. "Cabbage much?" he looked at Spencer.

"It wasn't cabbage," Reid shook his head. "It was a series of unfortunate events and I got stuck in the middle. I'm not complaining because aside of these," he raised his arms to show the bandages, "I'm having great fun."

"How was your opponent?" Tim asked curiously.

"Looked worse than I when I was done with him," Reid shrugged.

"Yeah," Zack nodded eagerly. "Uncle Spencer slammed him over with a chair and cuffed him like a calf on a rodeo. Aunt Kate patched him up and he took us to zoo."

"Aunt Kate?" Tina asked curiously. "Spencer…"

"Aunt Clementine…" Reid said stiffly. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Sweetness, your gutter had to come to your mind otherwise you wouldn't be having such precious little angel," Tina said simply.

Somewhere above them Cameron couldn't resist and howled with laughter.

"Stop laughing and protect your own virtue," Reid snorted.

"My virtue is intact," Cameron promptly declared and collapsed in a fit of giggles on the porch floor. "Thank you very much oh, the fairy knight."

"Desist!" Reid groaned. "There are children in here!"

"It is you who is looking for the double meaning, Spencer," Tim chuckled. "It's a double," he drawled on the word and made quotation marks with his fingers, "edged sword."

"And as cute as Cynthia is I have a kid on my own and he is quite handy," Cameron snickered.

"Of all animals the boy is the most unmanageable," said someone from behind.

"Plato," Cameron said simply.

"Here is another," the newcomer continued. "It takes one woman twenty years to make a man of her son – and another woman twenty minutes to make a fool out of him."

"Helen Rowland," Tina said swiftly. "And that wasn't twenty minutes…"

"Not even twenty seconds," Tim chuckled. "And that's?" he looked up at Cameron.

Reid looked other way. He knew who it was but he hardly expected the newcomer to sit on the backyard's wall with a huge grin on his face, messy, blonde hair sticking in all directions despite the blue bandana that attempted to hold them back.

Somewhere behind he heard a squeak and the door to the house being opened.

"Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the dawn, hundreds of bees in the purple clover,  
>hundreds of butterflies on the lawn, but only one mother the wide world over," the boy declared solemnly before on the aforementioned lawn landed first the bag and a second later the boy himself.<p>

"George Cooper," Reid muttered.

Killian made it past the kids, past Reid, past Tim and Tina and wrapped Cameron in a fierce hug.

"I still wish that you were more fonder of the front door," Cameron said with a huge grin.

"Pshaw, they posses no challenge whatsoever," Killian shrugged.

"Spencer?" Tina looked at Reid.

"Killian Cameron, the aforementioned animal and an incredibly bad shooter," Reid said simply. "The son of the giggler and apparently the reason of Molly's hasty retreat inside."

"You are wallowing under mistaken notion that I was aiming anywhere but not at you, Doctor Reid," Killian said dryly.

"Have I done something to offend you?" Reid asked simply.

"Nothing and that's my problem," Killian said simply as he pulled out from Cameron's hug just enough to roll his eyes at Reid.

This time it was Tim and Tina who howled with laughter. Reid on the other hand decided that no matter if he wasn't as much of a pain in the butt as Killian was he still owed his mum a hell of an apology, just for being a teenager and then few smaller ones to Uncle Toby and Aunt Nina for the very same.

"Am I being replaced?" Killian asked suddenly.

"Merely reinforced for the weekend," Cameron said simply. "Separation anxiety."

"Not much of an anxiety you know," Killian shrugged. "One innocent cuteness I saw before and the other looks like it's going to stay around for a very long time. Give me five minutes to eat something and you can all have a grown up talk. Oh and I need to make it to the airport by ten."

True to his words Killian grabbed something to eat before he tagged all kids, Molly included, into something which looked very much like Simon Says which allowed Reid to go over Cynthia's paperwork.

It was then when Reid realized that until that moment the whole concept of being a father was pretty much abstractive, real but still abstract on some level.

Cynthia Evelyn Reid. Daughter of Ruby Eva Devaine and Spencer Reid. Born 13th January 2008, 04:40 AM at Georgetown University Hospital, DC (that alone had him almost dying from shame because first two weeks of January of that year the team was on stand down and on that precise date he was home and he wasn't even aware that less than fifteen minutes away from his home his daughter was being born).

She was perfectly healthy forty-one months old, no allergies, in total five common colds, one bronchit and one ear infection. Properly vaccinated on all due dates.

He was listed as her father on all necessary paperwork which was even bigger shock.

The file also contained photographs of Cynthia and Ruby at various stages of Cynthia's life, other pictures done by Cynthia, the bracelet from the hospital…

When he finished reading the paperwork he stared, first at the paperwork and few seconds later at two pairs of brown and one pair of blue eyes.

"Somebody whack me," he groaned.

"Do you prefer Grey's Anatomy or will wooden tray be enough?" Cameron offered calmly.

"That's up to you," he muttered. "I'm a genius, normally I can come with ten different ways of solving up a problem but right now I feel like a moron. Let's face it my IQ got slashed down to sixty and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do."

"Not freaking out would be reasonable," Tim said simply.

"Getting over the belief that parents are supposed to know everything right from the start would be too," Tina added calmly.

"So would be the realization that parenthood consist in ninety-nine percents from improvisation and in one from trying to apply various theories," Cameron shrugged. "And focus on trying to apply part in there."

"Too right," Tina nodded. "It's no longer just about you, Spencer. It's about you and Cynthia and from today until the day you will die everything will be about you and Cynthia because parents, especially single parents have to think twice, once for themselves and once for their child."

"That doesn't mean that you have to be ready for everything right away," Tim added sympathetically. "Use the time off to get to know your daughter… Kids can be very adaptive…"

"Oh, I can see that," Reid shook his head. "She is incredibly adapted, Uncle Tim. Today is the very first day she saw me, ever, and one of the first things she does is drawing a picture of me, Ruby and her and we are waving bye-bye to mommy…"

"You are freaking out," Tim said calmly.

"For no reason," Cameron said simply. "But since your rational side has still to get over from shock so let me break it to you in small words. Feel free to correct me. Your daughter is three and half years old. Today is the very first day she saw you, yet after initial shyness which came from the situation she didn't expect she took a great liking to you and she trusts you, on a level which you consider as irrational. Now clear your head and for a moment step aside from Spencer Reid, new and incredibly shocked father into Spencer Reid experienced profiler and provable genius."

"Spencer Reid experienced profiler and provable genius is still very much knocked out," Reid snorted. "Keep talking to me like to a small child and maybe my rational side will wake up… eventually."

"Fine," Cameron shrugged. "But remember that you asked for it."

"I do," Reid nodded.

"I'm not a profiler," Cameron said calmly. "I don't chase serial killers for a living. I'm a psychiatrist and due to bringing up Killian I'm also a psychologist. Anyway what I saw today, in Cynthia, in Ruby and in you gives me a bunch of reasons which bring me to all but one conclusion which is that your daughter is very open, very trusting and very understanding child whose mother loves her very much and once you will get over from initial shock you will be the best father in the world."

"She is showing skill levels of a five years old," Reid said pensively.

"Which should be hardly surprising considering that you are her father. After all it was you who told me today that intelligence is hereditary," Cameron pointed out. "She might or she might not be a genius but she is highly intelligent nevertheless and as we both can attest to that statement intelligence without proper nurturing and support system is worth nothing. Which…" she paused and looked at him skeptically before she added, "You know that you are welcome to join me in that conversation…"

"Means that Ruby provided her with nurturing and great support system," Reid finished. "Which means that a lot of who Cynthia is now she owes to Ruby which means that I have no grounds to be angry with her…"

"Because Ruby loved, loves her very much," Cameron continued. "That she left her with you means that she loves Cynthia so much that she wanted to spare her the trauma of seeing her mother die. And trust me when I say it, for a child there is _no greatest trauma, nor greater_ tragedy than witnessing the death of a parent and any parent who loves their child wants to spare their child that pain."

"It also means that her mother prepared her for what is going to happen to her, Spencer," Tina said pensively. "It might seem misjudged but considering her state and I'm not a doctor to say that, it's the best she could do in as little time as she has left."

"As for Ruby herself," Cameron interjected. "I called few friends around the town from various hospitals so as soon as Ruby will check herself into one of the hospitals we will know."

"The address?" Reid asked hopefully.

"False," Cameron shook her head. "I checked it up. Go figure where I went when I found Cynthia on my doorstep…"

"What if she won't check herself into a hospital?" Reid asked quietly.

"She will have to," Cameron pointed out.

"You don't know that," Reid shook his head. "You cannot predict her move… Even I cannot do it right now…"

"Because you are in shock. I'm not," Cameron said simply. "Caucasian female, five foot eight inches, possibly severely malnourished, lanky, very short hair with reddish tinge, green eyes, post-chemo, she might be wearing something covering her head. Last time seen wearing blue skirt and light green blouse. Breathing problems, sounds like an asthmatic, coughs a lot. Might report to any ER over the city with breathing problems. Might or might not inform the staff that she is suffering from advanced lung cancer. If not it will show on x-rays. If that's not the case she might report to any palliative care ward. She is severely sick and she might pass out on the street. She might be robed but she might be not. Every ER, oncologic or palliative care centre or ward in town and within thirty mile radius received her description along with the notification that she might be checked in as Ruby Devaine or Jane Doe."

"How did you manage that?" Reid asked skeptically.

"I spent three days straight looking all over the town for a disorganized schizophrenic suffering from a pneumonia and delusion that she was chased by mutated moles," Cameron shrugged. "Trust me briefing hospitals on a lucid patient is a piece of cake compared to that rollercoaster ride," she grimaced. "Though moles…" she shook her head.

"Moles were easy if you ask me," Killian deadpanned. "Predictable in a way and hardly lethal. Butterflies on the other hand…" he shook his head.

"I could live without them," Cameron muttered when Killian scampered into her lap.

"How old I was then?" Killian asked pensively. "Fourish?"

"Five years, three months and two days old," Cameron said pensively. "You drove me nuts on that day."

"Sucks to have an echoic memory and a kid who never shuts up, doesn't it?" Killian asked innocently.

"Mhm," Cameron nodded.

"Hey," Killian huffed. "You were supposed to say 'but I love you anyway'."

Cameron laughed. Killian huffed and stared at her.

"Sorry, I love you anyway," Cameron mumbled. "I got lost in the memory and image of your five years old self drawing buttered flies."

"Who said that insanity is hereditary?" Killian asked pensively.

"Depends on the way it's supposed to work," Cameron said simply. "If you can get it from your children then you are asking for Sam Levenson."

"E. B. White," Killian said simply.

"Oh, shut up," Cameron groaned.

"What?" Killian asked innocently. "It's true."

"Teenagers profile like sociopaths," Cameron muttered.

"Some never outgrow it, Aunt Allison for example," Killian quipped. "I was wondering if she is a real sociopath or if she is simply suffering from a heart defect?"

"Why you are asking?" Cameron asked simply.

"Because in so far I'm starting to abhor biology, Mums," Killian shrugged. "If I turn out to be insane genius with sociopathic streak do me a favor and shot me."

"Insofar you are a gremlin," Cameron smirked. "When was the last time you slept properly?"

"Sometime at Wednesday?" Killian mumbled. "I hate sleeping on commercial flies. You are such a brave little boy, travelling all on your own without your mummy… Do you like Superman? Twelve are you? You must be a fan of Hannah Montana like our granddaughter…"

"And what did you say?" Cameron asked curiously.

"No, an old married couple, I felt as if I was stalked," Killian said simply. "I listened to that Niagara of questions until they let me breath between them and I addressed all issues in a very long sentence and I think that I freaked them out," he added innocently.

"Do I want to know?" Cameron asked skeptically.

"Depends," Killian shrugged. "I might have liberally made up several mental illness that might or might not run in the family. I also added that since genetics is screwing up with me just fine I don't need to add to it belief in an alien who runs around with spandex pants on his trousers or getting hysterical over Disney's starlet. From comics I prefer Spiderman because I believe in science and perhaps someday genetic modification of spiders will be possible. As for music I prefer Dvorak, Beethoven, Queen and occasionally Nightwish. As for other questions you might have I'm not answering them unless you are able to tell me forty-third number from Fibonacci numbers and first nine attempts don't count…"

"433 494 437," Reid muttered pensively.

"And forty-fourth is 701 408 733," Killian quipped.

"Don't tell me that you proceed to explain Fibonacci sequence to them," Cameron groaned.

"I didn't," Killian said innocently. "I managed to freak them out by saying that I memorized first five hundred numbers from Fibonacci sequence just because I was bored in AP Statistics and that I learned the equation from reading the tablet."

Reid stared and asked skeptically, "Why memorize the tablet when you have equation?"

"My mum had a PhD in mathematics and since I learned how to read there wasn't a mathematic book at home which I didn't read or didn't like. All mathematicians at Ellington were giving me a wide berth outside the classes because I had an annoying tendency to and that's a direct quote 'to spectacularly fuck up every single math lesson since day one by either referencing PhD materials or liberally discussing anecdotes about the subject…'"

"Yeah and because of that I was getting their bills for antidepressants," Cameron snorted. "Thanks a lot, genius."

"And how your classmates took it?" Reid asked curiously.

"After a month of locking me in my own locker before math lessons they decided that most of the time I made more sense than our teachers did… It was either that or perhaps they grew bored with Sweeney Todd. Apparently I cannot sign to save my life but I'm a genius at howling random songs like a skinned off cat," Killian said simply. "Trust me no one wants to have their lesson disturbed by a kid who is howling 'it's priest, have a little priest…' and who after freeing him from the locker claims that he fell in there all by himself…"

"You were bullied," Reid pointed out.

"I wouldn't call it bullying," Killian shrugged. "Vibing social boundaries perhaps. Bullying implies inability to defend oneself and I can only think of one time when I got out with a broken nose and split lip."

Reid looked at Cameron who simply shrugged.

"I might be small and scrawny but I have best back ever," Killian beamed and hugged Cameron.

"Do I even want to know?" Reid asked skeptically.

"Trust me the less you ask, the better for you. But let me tell you one thing, I was named appropriately," Cameron smirked. "As for you kiddo, if you are supposed to fly tonight you are taking a nap…"

"But Mu…eow…" Killian whined.

"Come on kitten."

"I'm not a kitten," Killian huffed.

Despite his protests Killian was marched into the house in accompaniment of snickers from Cynthia, Henry, Rory, Jack, Zack and Molly who at some point of the talk had abandoned playing in the garden and simply settled on sitting on the stairs and listening.

"You were never that much of a handful," Tim sighed. "Though the kid is very entertaining if you ask me."

"But he still has a **very** lousy aim," Reid snorted as he eyed his own porch. "How about we let the kitten take his nap and move it to my place?"

"Let's go," Molly said as she stood up.

Reid pointed at the wooden screen separating both porches and muttered, "Don't even ask me what happened to the wall which was supposed to be there."

"And what happened?" Tina asked curiously.

"About two years ago kitten did," Reid coughed. "And that's the version to which both Cameron and I are sticking. Screens are easier to replace."

**Famous Last Words**

Kitten _didn't exactly happen_ to the wall separating the porches between his and Cameron's house but he felt _greatly disinclined_ to inform Tim and Tina or the kids that what really happened to the wall was his screwed up attempt at hanging a hammock. Besides wooden screen made it easier for Cameron to randomly get in and out of the house in case of robbers observing the house while he was gone.

It was slightly insane idea but it worked quite spectacularly because about seven weeks after they came up with it when during the summer three empty houses were robbed while he was away. His house was mercifully spared in spite of him being gone for nearly three weeks. Besides it made feeding the cats easier and everything that screwed with the minds of possible stalkers was a good idea.

Additionally any idea which kept Garcia and consequently Kevin away (and he heard dubious stories from Morgan and Emily about what the pair could come up with) from his house when he wasn't around was good (not that he didn't love them but he felt much better when he could safely crash in his own bed without worrying about what might have happened in there while he was away).

Killian's sudden appearance and injection into his moderate meltdown had lead into a fall back on his long term plans for Cynthia's stay, and as he relatively quickly realized how late it was getting and how eager the family will be to see his daughter that he almost got a panic attack.

Hotel was the most logical idea. To him anyway. Between the kids and himself, even if he managed to find a spare mattress what was left were two couches in the living-room and probably the swing on the porch.

While Aunt Tina busied herself with making dinner (or more accurately reheating what they brought with them) and Uncle Tim busied himself with entertaining the kids Reid managed to call every hotel in remotely close area and learned that he was screwed. He relayed that knowledge to Cameron who came around with a change of clothes for Molly.

"I really feel as if I managed to step on the toes of some higher power," he muttered as he hung up. "I even did my sanity a favor and stopped counting how many conventions and conferences are going around this weekend and how many hotels have no spare room."

"And considering the novelty of you having a kid I sincerely doubt that they would manage to accept anything less than within immediate closeness to both of you," Cameron added pensively.

"Immediate closeness?" Reid stared at her.

"Sometimes I leave for thanksgiving you know," Cameron deadpanned. "I know how full a house can become."

"Any ideas smarty pants?" Reid snorted.

"Road side motels…" Cameron started.

Reid huffed.

"Or risking raising questions and several eyebrows," Cameron continued, "I have a living-room with two couches, one guest bedroom, my bigger bedroom and Killian's room. Once I will dispatch Killian to Orlando his room gets empty again and I can sleep there a night or two…"

"You are getting out of your way to accommodate them," Reid said sourly. "Why?"

"There has to be a reason?" Cameron asked simply.

"After that question?" Reid stressed out. "Sure. Anxiety?"

Something was wrong, very wrong he could feel it. It was so tangible that he could practically taste it. Suddenly he jolted… awake and saw a looming shadow over his head.

It was a very high shadow and in his still hazy state he reacted in the only way which came to his mind.

He hooked his left arm around the shadows ankles and before the shadow realized what happened he brought it to the ground and he threw at it what was in his reach which turned out to be a coat. The shadow didn't appear subdued at all and immediately started sitting up so he lunged at it, pinned it to the ground with the help of the coat by what he assumed were arms of the shadow… which only ended with him being flipped on his back with what felt like a hell of a shiner in making on the left side of his face.

Suddenly light ahead flashed and he heard distinctive cough of Aunt Bathsheba, "Don't mind me kiddies."

By the time he heard her retreating footsteps he realized that the looming shadow was slightly out of breath, a little flushed, wide-eyed and quite messy haired Cameron.

"Can you tell me what the fuck you were doing in my closet and what had gotten into you to tackle me like that?" she hissed.

"Me? I'm the one who is going to have a tell-tale bruise," he huffed. "Where did you learned that?"

"It's my closet and I was assaulted in there first," Cameron huffed as she slid to the floor.

"Somehow it was connected to Garcia but right now I feel slightly hazy," Reid muttered. "And there was something purple in there but I really don't feel like betting various body parts on that," he huffed and touched his bruised cheek with a mutter. "Do you have some ice? And can you tell your boots to stop staring at me?"

"I didn't hit you **that** hard," Cameron snorted.

"It was worth a try," Reid coughed. "I still need ice."

* * *

><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>

_Next chapter: Hopefully previously promised Garcia. Maybe Morgan... because Reid deserves a small break. If not... well there will be something else but the idea of a point vision different from still shocked Reid is too tempting to pass._


	12. Chapter 12: Garcia

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

_Chapter summary: How Garcia got roped into this..._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter twelve: Garcia<strong>

"Oh no," she groaned. "No, my baby Einstein that won't do at all."

**Ping. **

_The scanner is unable to recognize 47% of the image._

For the seventh time this morning.

Trust Spencer Reid to challenge her best, light-speed fast and totally awesome graphology program and trust that gorgeous smartass with _strong emphasis_ on **ass** part to do so with the handwritten list three pages long of victimology of murders in east Oregon, never mind that aforementioned gluteus maximus wrote it down during a coffee break on Friday afternoon before he took off. **He just had to do it by hand!** Smart, humongous ass.

She loved her whole team and each of them the best because she loved them each in a different way and in Reid there was something that inspired protective vibes towards him right from the start. She sincerely hoped that their baby genius would never realize how strong those vibes were and how much his seemingly innocent demeanor and those big brown, doe eyes had appealed to all women in BAU in monthly intervals when motherly instincts were the strongest. She was as guilty as the rest of them.

It was his eyes and the air of vulnerability that often made him the target of all those crazy buckos they were chasing, he didn't look threatening, he wasn't threatening… until he opened his mouth to prove to the world that he might not look like a threat but his brain in fact was the biggest threat of them all.

And as much as she loved him dearly he was still an ass for turning in that handwritten list which put her scanner on strike. For THAT he was getting the tablet and he could protest on that account until he turned blue there was no mercy for all those hours of work he just dumped on her.

Except she still needed that list, in legible handwriting.

"Beware Boy Wonder, mama is coming and she won't go away until you will tell her everything you scribbled down," she muttered as she triangulated both of his cell-phones.

_3514 Winfield Lane NW, DC._

Great, he was home while she was working her bum off. There better be Reid's special awaiting for her otherwise she will wipe the hard-drive of his personal laptop and all of his Tivoed Star Trek episodes.

She quickly grabbed her laptop, that damned list which broke her scanner, collected her purses and jacket before she stormed to the parking lot.

She made it as far as to Dale City when Esther started signaling that without a stop at the gas station further driving would be questionable at best.

She paid for the fuel and was about to start Esther's engine when she got startled by a loud crash and muttered, "Damn it."

It came from the left so she looked there.

_Oh. Boy. Wow._

Never mind small blue Toyota that was standing in the other lane but the man in front of it was drop down gorgeous.

She had Kevin and she loved Kevin but it didn't mean that she couldn't appreciate finely shaped specimen of a male population, **very** finely shaped specimen of male population.

Six feet, gorgeously tanned in all the right places in white shirt and trousers that contrasted with the tan. Dark brown, slightly curly hair that reached his shoulders. Not too muscled but not overly lanky.

_Simply w__ow._

Wait a minute he wasn't the only one, she realized quickly as the driver's door of the Toyota opened and another nicely shaped specimen of male population stepped to the front of the small car.

They were very much the same except that one gorgeous cookie had his hair chopped off like Reid in his brief boy band's phase about a year ago.

"Crap," the boy's band boy muttered. "Now what?"

"Know a taxi number?" the other asked.

"Last time I was in DC was when I was stalking Sawyer to get him roped in as the second best man, Danny Boy," boy's band guy snorted.

"Fat load of good it had done to you, Samson," Danny muttered. "I bet a tener that Sawyer will comment on that," he motioned at Samson's head. "And that biblical Samson will be referenced."

"Then I will tell our Poodle that now since he has a toddler on his own he should watch his head," Samson muttered.

"Still a woman," Danny winked. "And speaking about women…" he looked to his left.

Penelope gulped. She was spotted. Well, fuck.

Take a deep breath and smile, no fainting.

"Excuse me," Danny said as she slowly approached Esther. "Do you happen to know a number to a local taxi company?"

"I do. Car service too," she said quickly.

"Never mind that," Danny beamed. "Man power will pick it up tomorrow and even if it won't we are too tired to care about the car more than reaching our accommodations."

"More precisely where?" she asked simply. "So I would know which one to call."

"Winfield Lane Northwest, DC," Samson said as he eyed the inside of the Toyota. "Out like a rain."

"Do you blame them?" Danny asked. "It was six hours drive."

She looked in the car too. There were two small, dark heads. Kids.

Kids plus gorgeous men. Not much of a threat and she was heading there anyway.

"I need to drop something to a friend of mine in Georgetown," she found herself saying. "I can drop you there."

"You are true life saver, Miss…" Danny said cheerfully.

"Penelope Garcia," she extended her hand.

"Danny…" Danny approached her and bend down to kiss her hand, he straightened his back and suddenly yelped, "ouch…"

Samson was standing about two feet behind him with a smirk on his face before he said, "Danny Shameless Flirt."

"Samson Recently Left By His Wife," Danny coughed.

"Cut it for a while Romeo unless you want to pay for having rental car towed away," Samson said dryly.

"It's in your name," Danny muttered.

"Because apparently I look more credible to rental company," Samson declared. "We wouldn't be causing you any troubles Miss Garcia?" he asked politely.

"Not at all," she smiled gently.

God, they were so cute.

It took them few minutes to maneuver the Toyota to the parking behind the station. She parked right behind them and opened Esther's rear where Danny dropped their bags while Samson carried out from the car two beautiful girls which looked about five, six at the most.

Danny got into front passenger seat while Samson got to the rear seat with the sleeping girls.

"Brothers?" she asked curiously when they started driving.

"Twins," Danny said lightly. "Though we don't look like twins since Sammy had a brush with two five years old armed with scissors."

"And he is the evil twin," Samson declared from the backseat.

"I can be the evil twin," Danny said simply. "At the very least I'm not the eviler twin."

"No, you are just an A and a double S," Samson shrugged.

"At least my wife didn't run away with a scuba diving instructor," Danny quipped.

"At least I had a wife, you had the scuba diving instructor," Samson coughed. "Right now we are square and we don't have either."

"Any man who runs off with my sister-in-law is not worth a crap," Danny said simply. "But look on the bright side of it. Sawyer will laugh his butt off."

"Sawyer told you that you have nothing to fear," Samson shrugged. "It's okay to be gay."

"Bisexual and mind your straight ass," Danny coughed.

"Sawyer said that," Samson snickered. "Stop pining on me what he said. He also said that there is a river in Egypt…"

"Called the Nile and that it's full of crocodiles," Danny rolled his eyes. "Why don't you two start a club?"

"We are already in one, Danny Boy, it's called Let's Poke a Fun From Danny for Pretending That He Isn't Into Men During Family Gatherings," Samson quipped.

"Really?" Danny grunted. "Personally I call it an A and double S. And when was the last time we saw aforementioned butt?"

"I saw him more than a year ago in Maine on anniversaries weekend," Samson shrugged. "I wasn't the one who claimed severe food poisoning just to wriggle myself from questions about possible grandchildren."

"Because you already given them two of them," Danny said simply. "Now there is Sawyer and I hope that they will be so concentrated on his munchkin that I will avoid questioning."

"You wouldn't be asked if you told them the truth," Samson said simply.

"Why you are my brother?" Danny asked skeptically.

"Do you want a straight answer?" Samson snickered.

"No, a gay one would be just fine, you butt," Danny snorted.

"Because someone has to be bigger evil than you," Samson quipped.

"Eviler twin?" Penelope interjected.

That part was bugging her right since she heard it because she knew that she heard it somewhere before but for the life of her she couldn't pin point where she had heard it.

She glanced into the mirror and saw how Samson looked down at the sleeping girls. She saw that particular movement before. Samson looked up at her and gave her lopsided grin, his eyes twinkled merrily.

_No. It wasn't possible. Completely and wholly impossible, there was no way in hell.…_

Evil twin, eviler twin and that damned haircut and those eyes.

It was all Reid except it wasn't.

"Reid you bastard," she muttered. "When I will be done with you tablet would be the last of your worries."

"Someone is in trouble," Danny coughed.

"Is your surname by any chance Reid?" Penelope asked swiftly.

"Last time I checked it was," Samson confirmed simply.

"And you have a relative living on Winfield Lane Northwest in DC?" she asked. "More precisely under number 3514?"

"Sawyer," Samson nodded.

That didn't fit. She knew SPENCER Reid, not SAWYER Reid.

"Given name Spencer but with accumulations of Spencers in the family he was nicknamed Sawyer or simply Saw," Samson explained. "Also answer to Smartass, Britannica, Freddie the Hanged, Better Twin and Cuz."

"Not necessarily in that order," Danny coughed. "Most notably he reacts to Sawyer, Smartass and Cuz."

"Cousin?" Penelope asked curiously.

"Adult one," Samson admitted. "We also have the squirrels, they are in fifth grade."

"Big family?" she pressed.

"Grandpa Spencer had twelve sons," Danny shrugged. "Sawyer's father was the oldest, our pops was the fifth, squirrels' dad was the sixth."

Reid, you humungous buttock, you mammoth ass, why you never said a word?

"Close family?" she asked innocently.

"Depends from the grandmother," Samson shrugged. "Sawyer is from grandma Bel's line, but he and Aunt Diana were adopted by our cluster after Sawyer's father done a runner. Our cluster is pretty close, I don't know how are the others."

"Jonah," Danny coughed. "Your youngest brother is as much of an ass as the oldest, Uncle Dave."

"It was a miracle that Sawyer didn't kill him," Samson snorted. "I know I would."

"Big age difference?" she asked curiously.

"Depends," Samson asked. "Between Uncle Will and Uncle Jonah there is twenty-seven years. Jonah was born in the same year as Sawyer but two months later actually and between us and Sawyer there is four years difference and between him and Chip and Dale there is nineteen years difference. It's quite big age gap."

"You know him?" Danny asked curiously.

"The One With the Power to Render Him to Painting Massages on Walls, Danny Boy," Samson chuckled.

"What?" Danny asked.

"I listen to what he is saying, Danny Boy," Samson snickered. "He talks about many interesting things. Talk line, people I wouldn't dare to cross, Danny."

Danny frowned and then he flinched before he said, "I don't care how many alpha males are on the team, with them I can negotiate but Garcia I wouldn't cross for the world."

Penelope smiled to herself. Reid learned fast and outranking the Boss Man, Chocolate Adonis and Italian Stud counted for something even if that compliment contained a veiled insult that she was non-negotiable.

"Spurt of a moment visit?" she asked curiously.

"Not exactly," Danny shrugged as she pulled into parking. "Family gathering."

"You wouldn't mind if I kidnapped him for five minutes?" she asked as turned the ignition off. "He owes me explanation for the list that killed the scanner."

"Keep him," Samson chuckled. "One less pair of hands with the kid."

"Reid doesn't have kids," Penelope shook her head as she stepped out from Esther.

Reid didn't have kids because if Reid had kids he would have told them. He would have told HER.

But then again Reid was also very keen of his privacy and the only person more paranoid about his privacy in the team was the Boss Man. Except for the most of the time their paranoia had stayed within the boundaries of reason. This had no reason.

"Reid! Cupcake! Baby Einstein!" she called out as she knocked on the door forcibly. "Come here my sweetness or I will update all of your electronic devices to upper level."

There was still no answer so she knocked again.

"Reid! I see a tablet in your future! And an iPod. If you don't open the door I will infest with a Trojan which will turn your computers into Swiss cheese… and you will get Arabic subtitles."

The door finally opened and slightly bleary eyed Reid came into her vision.

"Relax," Reid groaned. "I'm up and awake. You don't need to shout."

"No shit Sherlock," she muttered. "Munchkin, I'm going to personally throttle you with that purple scarf of yours. You little envious miscreant with severe issues with everything that isn't at the very least five years old…"

She looked past Reid and saw that he wasn't alone. Not alone at all. Hence the pair who were still standing around Esther Reid actually _had_ extended family.

More or less they were similar in looks to Reid, men at the very least. Brown-haired, two graying slightly and all had dark eyes. Neither were lanky but all of them were tall and only one looked like he liked to eat quite a lot.

Women were different. They varied in looks and body-built.

One of them was Mrs Reid and Penelope did remember her from the time she meet her. She appeared to be slightly apprehensive and Penelope immediately mentally kicked herself.

There were also others. Two blondes. One very lanky and pale, very frail but with very nice smile. The other was smaller than the former and more filled out with rosy cheeks and cheeky smile.

The brunette who stood by her side had exactly the same cheeky smile. The redhead was the smallest and the most filled out.

Suddenly something had torn between the adults and a purple bullet launched itself at Reid mewling alternatively in Garcia's direction to leave her daddy alone or in Reid's to not leave her alone.

Somehow purple bundle had climbed up into Reid's arms just as Reid's cousins reached the door and Reid reacted in an utterly Hotch-like manner by saying.

"What, did you join a boy band?"

To which he received a slightly muffled snort, "No, I didn't. But apparently you are a psychic and at some point you foresaw a toddler in your future and you decided on having your hair cut by an adult."

Well, Samson, because apparently at him that comment was oriented, had a point.

As for the toddler in question…

She looked like mini-version of Reid, well except in hair length, hers were very long for a child her age and obviously hadn't been cut for a very long time.

Reid suddenly mumbled something about getting his baby a cup of water and left the hall. It was only when the door outside slammed shut when it occurred to Penelope that Reid's kitchen in no way was accessible through the porch through which he left.

The brief hunt around the house for Reid and his baby had ended with a conclusion that Boy Wonder locked himself up in the storage which was accessible only through the garage and the garden because the inner staircase lead down to the garage.

Reid moving houses surprised everyone. It just happened sometime after Gideon left. One day Boy Wonder lived under number 84 H Street NW, in a single bedroom apartment and next day a post-it note appeared on one of her screens with a new address, DR SR, 3514 Winfield Lane NW, DC.

Perhaps it was for the best in the end. Reid's stint with drugs no matter how brief haunted him even after detox and she had no doubt that along with his apartment Reid was trying to leave behind the shadows that followed him from Georgia.

Besides the house unlike the apartment had something that was purely and definitely Reid. She didn't know what Boy Wonder had done to get the house on a incredibly low price considering the neighborhood and size of the house but somehow he did it and his finances didn't appear to suffer much, for a while. Or perhaps it didn't seem so because the number of Reid's publications spiked after he moved to Georgetown.

The house itself was not too big and not to small, quite spacious and comfy and when he invited the team for small party he had no problems with showing them around. The storage looked back then as if a crew of carpenters had taken a residence in there.

"Workshop," tall, graying man declared. "Should have known."

"Do you blame him, Spencer?" the lanky blonde asked.

"Not really, I'm only concerned about the girl," the man called Spencer (who the hell was naming the men in that family) shrugged simply.

"Workshop?" Penelope asked curiously.

"Saws, hammers, nails," the man said.

Penelope gulped. Reid was _never_ into physical work, mind work, sure as hell but it took him and Morgan to assembled the couches because Boy Wonder scoffed on the price of the crew, which meant that Morgan assembled the couches after Reid almost smashed his own hand with a hammer and nearly poked his eye out with a screwdriver.

"He will be just fine," big bellied man declared. "Give a kid a name and you give him character."

"I hope so," Mrs Reid smiled fondly. "Sounds like hiding."

"Kid needs his privacy," one of the remaining two men said. "Who says yes to a shopping trip?"

Many did, some did not. Penelope herself couldn't resist the allure of a shopping trip and learning more about Reid's relatives.

They respectively answered to names Mina (for Jasmine), Spartin (curiously enough Spencer Martin), Dave, Sheba (for Bathsheba), Tina (for Clementine), Nina (for Janine), Toby and Tim.

Reid's credit card fell prey to them and for a good reason too. After all they had to buy everything which a three years old Cynthia would need and Reid's aunts were completely endearing.

Together in a matter of two hours they all managed to cover all grounds. From color of the walls (lilac, such an endearing child, she took so much after her daddy) down to the shoes.

Sure they might have gone a little overboard with fanciness but Reid's precious pumpkin deserved the best and Aunt Penelope was ready to give her the moon if the girl wanted. Besides Reid needed help. He was a genius but there were some areas in which he was really, really dense.

She was less convinced when she presented her personal prize, purple stroller to him. Reid really didn't look well and quite quickly excused himself. But she let him be because watching the kids frolicking in the garden was completely enchanting activity. Plus there was something definitely funny about Morgan with kids.

In a matter of fifteen minutes he was consequently tackled, chased around the backyard with Clooney participating in the chase which ended in another tackle and another chase, this time with giggling Cynthia in his arms and despite his strength he was handling her with great care and gentleness.

"Princess over here wants apple juice," Morgan declared as he marched into the kitchen with Cynthia in his arms. "What you told him to made such a hasty retreat to a house which is not his?"

"I didn't tell him anything, or at the very least more than he asked for," Penelope said pensively. "But he certainly looked odd, disturbed. Perhaps we should be easy with shocking him."

She turned around and rummaged the fridge for apple juice, she poured it into a cup they bought for Cynthia and handed it to her just as from the corner of her eye she saw Reid march through the porch into the house and finally into the kitchen.

He had a hell of a shiner on the left side of his face.

"What happened to you my Baby Einstein?" Penelope asked in concern.

Reid coughed something under his breath and reached into the fridge from which he pulled an ice pack and put it over the bruise.

"Please, don't tell me that a door got into your way," Morgan said skeptically.

"No door," Reid muttered.

Cynthia extended her hands to him and he picked her up with his free arm.

"Who done that then?" Morgan pointed at him.

"I did," Reid scoffed.

"You clocked yourself like that?" Penelope asked skeptically.

"No," Reid shook his head. "But apparently this," he lowered the ice pack, turned it over in his hand before he put it back again. "Is a sign that my annual leave is long overdue and that I really should spend it at resting. Taking a catnap in a closet, hazily attacking the owner of that closet while I wasn't even fully aware of where I was. So I tackled the looming shadow and almost won if it wasn't for an adrenaline kick which ended with this."

"You can press charges," Morgan offered.

"I'd rather not…" Reid mumbled

"He assaulted a civilian in their home, without warrant and even better a good reason," a brunette by the window stated simply. "I'm not a suspect in any federal investigation so a federal agent has not business in hiding inside my closet, he also has no grounds to tackle me and if he gets bruised he gets bruised by his own merits. Other than that it's just a shiner, no broken bones or blood. Trust me, I'm a doctor."

"Of actual medicine," Reid muttered. "Even if it's psychiatric medicine. Leaving so fast?"

"I have to," the woman said as she dropped two sets of keys on the counter. "I will be gone till Wednesday evening at the very least, most probably Friday afternoon or in extreme circumstances next Monday. Killian shouldn't come back before me but if he will he has his own keys."

"And you are sure that you have no problems with having all of them at your place?" Reid asked skeptically.

"The house is going to be empty anyway and at least you have more time to find a proper hotel," the woman shrugged. "However," she added and pointed at something on her right side, "that house should better be standing when I get back."

"Noted," Reid nodded. "What about Ruby?"

"My cell phones are listed as a contact but the third number is your landline. I will be answering the phones," the woman said.

"Federal agent," Reid coughed.

"Psychiatrist," the woman rolled her eyes. "I don't need a warrant to look around the city for a patient."

"I can still lock you up for that shiner," Reid snorted.

"You physically assaulted me in my own closet… and with my own coat," the woman snorted. "Trust me I need less to put you in a room with padded walls and since we wandered into my area of expertise," she added as she picked something from her pocket. "Prescription for Latuda. If you are going to need anything else the name is Harry Solomon, if you need to skip the line tell the nurse on duty that Mars is very bright tonight and yes, I'm serious. They would know how to proceed."

"Lock me up in that charming room with padded walls?" Reid offered as he took the prescription.

"No, Boy Wonder," the woman rolled her eyes. "Squeeze you into an emergency visit within fifteen minutes. He sometimes does it for families of my patients when I'm out of town and he sets the password of the month."

"But if I will spend three days in the padded room I will lock you up in Quantico's holding cell for three days remember that," Reid muttered.

"Threat duly noted," the woman shrugged. "Will you need a car?"

"Quite so, Smartypants," Reid nodded. "Though their patriotism might disagree with a Volkswagen."

"At least my car isn't a potential lethal trap with questionable breaks, Mr I'm Sorry For Your Garage Door," the woman said sweetly.

"I said that I was sorry and my car actually looked worse than your garage door," Reid snorted.

"Bye, I'm not listening," the woman muttered and wandered away but she quickly came back and threw the car keys on the counter before she narrowed her eyes at Reid and said sweetly, "And keep your hands away from my dissertation."

"Which dissertation?" Reid asked innocently.

"The one you were eyeing upside down while I was looking for fractured bones," the woman muttered. "Hands off, it's mine, you have your PhD in psychology, stop messing with mine."

"Nice…" Reid drawled.

"Cynthia, Sweetpie," the woman said sweetly to Reid's little girl. "Tell your daddy that he is a HE."

"Of course he is he," Cynthia agreed.

"Hah," the woman smirked. "Even your daughter knows that."

"That I'm a he, sure she does," Reid agreed. "She doesn't know that your HE starts with h and ends with ypocrite. Perish, she devil, wicked witch of east, bane of my existence… Abuser of federal agents."

"And a nice day to you too," the woman smirked and disappeared.

When Reid turned around to face them Morgan had the most peculiar expression on his face.

"Someone has been getting some lessons in horizontal tango," Morgan snickered.

"No, somebody wasn't dancing very much as of late," Reid snorted. "And if somebody in this room was doing horizontal tapdance sometime this year then it wasn't me. My social life is pretty dead."

Penelope smiled to herself before she said, "Baby Einstein, if that wasn't chemistry I don't know what it was."

"Banter," Reid offered as he put the icepack back in the fridge. "And trust me if the ability to trade verbal jabs was any indication of horizontal dancing you two would be married for last six years, with four to five kids, three dogs, two cats and a goldfish named Nemo. You are not. Now excuse me, I need to assess the damage upstairs. Come on Cynthia."

And with that Parthian shot Spencer Reid left the kitchen.

The tablet looked more and more solid.

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><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>

_Next chapter: Because Reid is fond of his sanity he does something completely insane but at the very least he is (almost) on his own with the kids. The return of little red Corvette and the meeting with Purple Torpedo. Two strollers, two adults and ten kids to control... Sometimes severely delusional unsubs are easier to handle than this. _


	13. Chapter 13: Sane Conversations

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

_Chapter summary: _ Because Reid is fond of his sanity he does something completely insane but at the very least he is (almost) on his own with the kids. The return of little red Corvette and the meeting with Purple Torpedo. Two strollers, two adults and ten kids to control... Sometimes severely delusional unsubs are easier to handle than this.__

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><p><strong>Chapter thirteen<strong>**: (In)sane Conversations.**

What prompted him to go to National Botanical Garden he didn't know. What he did know was that he needed to get out from his house, and as fast as possible on that or he would end calling Doctor Solomon, except not to consult his Mum's medication but in favor of having himself locked up in a padded room for few days, for his own safety as well as the safety of others.

The plan to leave was great, more so, it was welcomed by the rest of the family because it meant that he wasn't going to interrupt in preparations of Cynthia's room but it also meant that if he was leaving then he could take the kids for a walk.

**All of them.** To be more specific, **whole ten.**

Cynthia, Molly, Zack, Jack, Rory and Henry, plus Chip and Dale and Rose and Linda. Five girls and five boys. Five Reids, three Berkeleys, one Hotchner and one LaMontagne. One twelve years old, two eleven years old, one eight years old, three five-going-six years old, one four years old and two three years old.

The realization that he only had two hands came a moment later and it meant that sex, age and name didn't matter.

"I just had to open my mouth and say that I'm going for a walk," he muttered to himself.

"You have one stroller," his Mum pointed out calmly.

"And ten kids, three of which require…" he started and slapped his left hand against his forehead.

He forgot about little red _Corvette_ which was still in Cameron's house which together with that purple _Torpedo_ should suit his needs just fine. Well at least where three youngest were concerned. More problematic however were Jack, Zack, Linda and Rose who were too old for a stroller and way too young to run around unsupervised. He could trust Molly to handle Zack and Jack on crowded streets. Chip and Dale with Linda and Rose however were a completely different basket.

"There is a tandem stroller," Reid muttered.

"Heavy?" his Mum asked.

"Quite, especially with _cargo_," Reid nodded.

"Then I will take purple one," his Mum said simply.

He tried his best to not appear surprised by her statement even if deep inside he was surprised as hell. It has been a longer while since he had seen his Mum so eager to do things which weren't reading or playing games and about two years since he heard her wishing to head out.

Now she did it, in a completely unfamiliar to her city, with him and ten kids.

But she looked happy as she packed the bag with bottles of waters and fruits so he had no other choice but to concede.

On rational level he knew that any kind of activity which involved moving around was good for her and that her initiative was a huge sign of adapting into one of the most bizarre phases of his life on a better level than he was adapting himself and for an institutionalized paranoid schizophrenic scared of flying, who in last decade left the hospital on scarcely three occasions overcoming one of her greatest fears was a huge leap and sign of even bigger determination to participate in her granddaughter's life.

Aside of the early morning scare when he hadn't found her and Jack in the bedroom he knew that she was in one of her most lucid periods and was acting like any other grandmother would.

Moments like that were rare in the past and only a sadist would rob both **her** and Cynthia from the possibility of doing something as completely normal as taking a walk.

On irrational level he was terrified of what will happen if she will have an episode while they would be out, especially in a stressful situation.

"You okay?" Molly asked pensively as she passed by him.

"I'm contemplating," Reid admitted.

"She took her medication," Molly said simply. "And in case you didn't happen to realize that Chip, Dale and I are old enough to distract other kids in case of an episode and we are strong enough to push the stroller, both of them actually."

"If we were in Vegas…" Reid sighed. "I would be worrying less then. She knows Vegas, DC is DC."

"You are worrying too much," Molly shrugged. "Think in positives."

"You spent too much time around Aunt Tina," Reid shook his head.

"They invited us to the ranch you know," Molly said. "I even know how to sell the idea to Mum and Uncle Aaron."

"Hotch would protest and politely decline," Reid said simply.

"Not if I will handle that and you won't breath a word," Molly smirked. "Zack, Jack and Rory know what to do and I know how to direct them to West Virginia."

"Schemer," Reid smiled.

"I had good teachers," Molly said cheekily before she ran to the garden to round up the kids.

Getting both strollers down and packing them with bags with water, fruits and balls was actually an easy part compared to the acrobatics he had to perform in order to have Cynthia, Henry and Rory seated properly.

Henry didn't want to ride facing forward but when Reid strapped him to the farther seat he ended kicking Rory's seat. After that Rory didn't want to sit in the closer seat but when Reid changed their positions she ended kicking Henry's seat which in turn lead Henry to not wanting to ride with rearview and when Reid eventually turned him around he and Rory proceed to kick each other respectively.

Then Rory declared that she didn't want to ride with rearview but front view and after a change of seats between her and Henry the kicking match continued. Changing the seats so neither could see another lead to 'I wanna see'.

And 'I wanna see' ended finally when his Mum took the initiative, swiftly changed the seats to facing each other. She left Rory in the rear seat facing forward, put Cynthia in the farther seat facing rear and in the end put Henry in single stroller with no choices.

Miraculously it worked and fighting between toddlers had stopped to Reid's unhidden amusement.

"How…" he started.

"I didn't always teach at university, Spencer," his Mum winked. "I was doing my intership in middle school too. First rule of survival as a teacher, separate the aggressors."

"And strap them if you can," Molly added dryly. "Before Zack was born mum worked as a nurse in my kindergarten. One of the mothers had very independent triplets who always fought with one another," she clarified

"Wise woman," his Mum agreed.

"Advice noted," Reid nodded and looked at the other kids. "Hand or stroller?" he asked.

"Piggy back?" Jack asked hopefully.

Rose and Linda groaned.

"Okay, you two hold on the straps, Jack-Jack come here," Reid motioned at the kids.

"Kids look good on you," his Mum winked at him when Jack was seated on Reid's shoulders.

"Over me too," Reid deadpanned. "Except yesterday's game of blindfolded tag which ended in let's pile on _piñata_ player."

"But it was the _piñata_ player who tripped on a rock," Molly pointed out.

"There was blood, mine," Reid shrugged.

"I had a bigger scrap and I didn't cry," Zack said dryly.

"You got Looney Tunes band-aid," Reid said simply.

"And it was kissed better," Molly snickered. "Spencer didn't want one so he is still sore."

"I'm not sore," Reid huffed. "I have bruises all over me and contrary to popular belief salivating over a band-aid doesn't actually makes it better. You think it does because after being injured your brain releases dopamine into your nervous system and…"

From the corner of his eye he saw that his Mum rolled her eyes, shook her head, quickly placed her hand over the handle of the tandem stroller, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Now, you were kissed better, stop being sore, Spencer," she said simply as she resumed pushing the stroller with Henry.

"… it doesn't matter because you aren't going to listen to me anyway," Reid finished with a sigh.

"Just remember that no one of us is going to high school, Spencer," Chip quipped. "Try to stay within boundaries of sixth grade at the most."

"I skipped sixth grade Chipmunk," Reid deadpanned.

"Fourth then," Dale said dramatically.

"I skipped that one too," Reid said simply.

"How fast you were skipping?" Molly asked curiously.

"I was booted out of preschool within a month when I was four going five, straight into kindergarten which booted me within another month to second grade which I finished normal way. Because I was scrawny and socially awkward I ended repeating third grade, not when it comes to the material but actually teachers. Then was fifth, seventh and eighth and I would have skipped seventh grade too if it wasn't for most infectious diseases attacking me in a row, chickenpox, rubella and measles," Reid explained.

"What about high school?" Dale asked curiously.

"Merged education, ninth grade with tenth grade, eleventh with twelfth," Reid added.

"It's a lot," Molly said.

"I was eager to get out," Reid said grimly. "I was ten years old surrounded by fifteen to nineteen years old. In high school size actually matters to general population."

"Or knowledge of Broadway's musicals," Molly offered.

Reid snorted, trust Molly to remember what Killian said.

"Cameron told me that they really stopped tagging Killian after he memorized Queer Avenue lyrics," Molly said.

"Maybe but let me remind you that while both mine and his mother are doctors Cameron is a doctor of psychiatric medicine and those students who still have some brain left and are thinking about heading to university don't want in their papers extended stay in psychiatric ward…"

"Sometimes thinking about heading to university doesn't equal with _getting_ into university," his Mum said simply with a mischievous smile.

"Can you clarify that?" Reid asked cautiously.

"Try finding out how many of your acquaintances from high school got enrolled into university, Spencer," his Mum shrugged. "You would be surprised how _dense_ some supposedly smart people can be."

"What you mean?" Reid asked nervously as he stopped walking.

"That a mother's wrath is a mother's wrath, Spencer," Molly said simply. "It doesn't matter if they wield psych evaluations or future careers what matters is that whatever they wield they use it to protect their broth."

That statement actually rotted him firmly to the spot, literally. He was so surprised that Chip and Dale who for the most of the time were trailing somewhere behind his and his Mum's back between skipping ahead few steps only to fall back after a moment had went ahead and started pushing the tandem stroller away from him.

"Do we want to lose them, Uncle Spencer?" Jack asked curiously.

"Course not," Reid mumbled and he quickly leveled with the stroller.

The twins relished the hold on the stroller to him easily.

"How…" he started.

"Mothers always know, Spencer," his Mum said simply. "So do the fathers," she motioned at Cynthia. "Instinct is a powerful thing."

"Right now my instinct tries to tell me that wherever we are heading right now is safer than whatever the rest managed to cook up at home," Reid said grimly. "And that I think would be a good point to decide upon general direction."

"They aren't that bad," his Mum shrugged.

"No, they aren't. Quite recently I gave them a very good excuse to turn the house upside down to make everything perfect," Reid admitted. "And when they will eventually leave I will spend at least three days at trying to locate everything they moved. At the very least my dissertation isn't at stake. Unlike someone's else."

"Did Cameron explained why she was leaving so suddenly?" Molly asked curiously.

"Some family problems in Chicago," Reid shrugged. "She didn't exactly clarify and I didn't ask but as far as I heard narcissists were involved but no crime had been committed. Why are you asking?"

"Girl-talk," Molly said simply. "Nevermind."

"Is she a good friend?" his Mum asked curiously.

"I have better friends," Reid shrugged.

"You know what they say…" Molly smirked.

"I don't know what they say but whatever you are about to say I'm not listening to. It's bad enough that my aunts had hailed Garcia on the matchmaking bandwagon. Now it has to be you?" Reid groaned. "You don't have better target practices?"

"I do," Molly said innocently. "There are far more challenging and they require certain amount of subtlety and great deal of patience."

That stopped Reid in his tracks again. _Subtlety, patience, challenge_… Nothing could get more challenging or require more patience and subtlety than…

"You aren't trying to bring together your Mum and Hotch, are you?" Reid asked quickly.

"Busted," Jack coughed over his head.

"Spectacularly," Zack added.

"Did you have any doubts?" Reid asked skeptically.

"Actually yes," Molly admitted. "No offense but yesterday you acted a bit like a beheaded chicken."

"Which, Miss Smartypants, is a lesson for you in two things," Reid quipped. "Never try to outsmart a profiler and next time that idea crosses your head stick to the task at hand and don't multitask."

"Will you help us?" Zack asked hopefully.

"No," Reid shook his head. "You are all on your own, schemers."

"Why not?" Dale asked curiously.

"Because in spite of quite long list of shocks I was subjected to yesterday and today I still have something called _common sense_ and my common sense requires of me to claim neutrality and become Switzerland. I won't interrupt you but I absolutely refuse to be caught in backfire."

"So let me get it straight," Chip quipped. "You have no problems with facing armed delusional unsub on a psychotic break without a gun and Kevlar vest but you have problems with facing two nonthreatening adults?"

"Yes, Chipmunk," Reid snorted.

"You are making no sense whatsoever," Chip grimaced.

"Because even without a gun I still have the profile which boils down essentially to predicting what might happen and how to avoid it and Chips I do have profile for what will happen to me if I will get involved into scheming," Reid said simply.

"What?" his Mum asked skeptically.

"Transfer to Anchorage, Alaska is the lightest scenario, other scenarios involve running away to Argentina to become a tango dancer or hiding in Himalaya as a Sherpa… That's if I will get a head start… if not there is very strong probability that I will become a victim of my own dissertation. For the record I abhor intense cold and freezing my butt in Himalaya is not an option, I also don't know how to dance tango and I don't want to be a victim of my own dissertation which means that I have no other choice but to become Swiss. End of story."

"Neutrality also has its price, Spencer," his Mum pointed out.

"Yes, it does, it's called ignorance," Reid offered. "I'm going to ignore what I just learned and pretend that I don't know anything."

"Scared-cat," Molly coughed.

"Alive scared-cat," Reid corrected her. "But for the record, Mols, I like you and if it works and won't backfire you will make two people I respect happy. So I'm kind of rotting for you except I'm not."

"Now you aren't making any sense," Jack piped up.

He didn't feel like telling them that it was THEM who made no sense at all. Yes, he did understand WHY Molly, Zack and Jack might consider matchmaking as the best idea ever but that he understood didn't mean that he was going to get himself involved in a half-baked scheme.

Absence of a parent, no matter the reason of it was **always** felt. It didn't really matter if one was at the brink of puberty or barely out of nappies and from what he knew Mike Berkeley left almost the same way his father did. Slow withdrawal for a while, then yank of the carpet and everything was in shambles.

Reid had no doubt that Hotch and Jess were nurturing in Jack memory of Haley. Of that much he was sure. But nurturing the memory and consoling terrified child after a nightmare were two completely different things. Besides five going six was a very stupid age, perhaps not in Jack who knew why his mum wasn't there because Jack surely was able to understand this much but some kids could get unbelievably cruel for anything which was out of the boundaries of normalcy. What was normal was a mother and a father, what **was not** was the lack of either party.

Besides Jess provided Jack with additional sense of security, sense of belonging and from what Reid saw during the weekend The Berkeley-Hotchner Howling Band was really close cliché. Zack, surrounded by two sisters most probably didn't have problems with adopting younger brother and in that regard was proud like a peacock and Jack was old and at the same time young enough to have no problems with playing both with Zack and Rory and for Rory additional big brother meant more company.

Molly herself was on the brink of puberty, still a child on some level but also not just a child any longer and she was abandoned by a positive male role model and abandoned in the worst possible way during one of the worst possible times when girls look up to their fathers for guidance and boundaries.

And she was old enough to see for herself, and close enough to Jack to know that even when Hotch's and Haley's marriage fell apart Hotch was still there for Jack, still participated in Jack's life. Because of that Mike Berkeley's abandonment of the whole family made his actions unforgivable in Molly's eyes.

Without doubt, at the very least the older three, sat down and talked over the idea of how to make everyone happy by keeping the family together because they saw that outcome as something positive, Jack would still have Haley as his mum but he will also have mum in Jess, one that was physically accessible to run to at any given time, he would also have siblings, something which an only child longed for.

That much Reid could see for himself and reason out from what he knew himself. It was the _**consent**_of the participants or more specifically in one hundred percents _**lack of thereof**_ which made him claim neutrality.

If the scheme, no matter how half-baked it seemed to him, had worked then everybody involved would be happy. However if the proverbial shit hit the fan (not that he used that figure of speech very often, he did so _in extreme measures_ and this was _nothing short from extreme_) the kids would be forgiven for coming with the idea, adult participants however…

Not that it would go bad before Hotch and Jess would figure out what was going on… They were both smart and in worst case few awkward outings would lead them to discovery of the scheme in question and taking preventive measures to nip Molly's matchmaking tendencies in the bud. In best… all the better for the both of them because they both deserved to be happy, separately or with each other, they deserved a shot at happiness regardless.

So in the end he felt like _not very objective_ Switzerland. Besides if Molly concentrated **all** of her efforts at Hotch and Jess she wouldn't have much time or possibilities to test her matchmaking powers elsewhere… like on him and a mother of a boy who captured her attention because it was bad enough that ALL of his aunts had concentrated THEIR matchmaking tendencies on him and Cameron and they even managed to get Garcia roped in. Hopefully his snarky comment about trading verbal jabs will keep Garcia away from scheming for a while and Cameron will remain absent for the rest of his aunts' stay in DC. Hopefully.

It was bad enough that he received all knowing smile from Aunt Sheba along with comment about youth needing _to release the tension_ which made him blush bright red and claim hasty retreat inside the house to save the shreds of his dignity. Funnily enough she made that comment when Cameron was still within hearing range and went as scarlet as her skirt before she hurried upstairs with a huffed comment, "Tension-smension my butt."

Yes, knowing what Molly was planning and failing to inform involved parties made him a hypocrite but Hotch and Jess **could defend themselves** and there were two of them against three kids while **he was left all on his own** against four middle-aged women with extreme matchmaking tendencies surrounded by supportive middle-aged men, two extremely unhelpful commentators and one, _still_, objective Switzerland. Not to mention Garcia and Morgan.

"You are grinning like a cat who just gotten his paws on a canary, Spencer," his Mum said.

"Switzerland, huh?" Molly snorted.

"Can you tell me more about Doctor Cameron?" his Mum asked innocently.

**Damn!** There went, until now, his **ONE LAST** objective party and he retreated from the house in favor of saving last shreds of his dignity and whatever was left from his sanity. Instead he went out of the frying-pan straight into the fire.

_Think genius, how will you get yourself out of it…_

"What can I tell you is that she isn't into lanky geniuses. More into broad-shouldered blondes…" Reid said quickly.

"Are you making this up?" Molly asked innocently. "Because I have completely different information from involved party that pictures intellectual brunets rather than brainless blonds."

"And who is your informant?" Reid snorted.

"Her son," Molly smirked.

"Desist!" Reid hissed.

"There is a river in Africa…" Molly started.

"La la la… I'm not listening," Reid groaned.

"Colonel Mustard in the study with a sharpened pencil," Molly deadpanned.

"It looks more like Lady DeNial in the closet with a coat hanger," his Mum said simply.

**Double damn!**

"Generally women prefer to be wined and dined before the tackle takes place…"

"**MUM!**" Reid whined.

"… but times change…" his Mum finished.

"I'm claiming lifelong celibacy," Reid muttered.

"Asceticism doesn't become you, Spencer," his Mum said simply.

"Neither becomes indulgence," Reid shrugged. "I tried it once, it sucked."

"The effect of said indulgence however was worthy," his Mum said as she looked at Cynthia.

"That one is worthy, I could do without others," Reid muttered to himself.

He was strongly convinced that in spite of the hole which each verbal jab was digging under him he was still in control of the situation, conversation… whatever. After all he was an adult in company of ten kids, he negotiated with psychotic unsubs and he could get himself out from whichever corner he was pushed into.

As long as they were walking around and talking he could steer the conversation and control the environment on moderate level.

How little control he had over the situation showed the metro sign.

_They couldn't get into Arlington that fast, could they?_

Sure enough they could. He shook his head and was about to direct the whole bunch around towards Georgetown but in that moment his cell-phone went off.

"Reid," he sighed as he picked it up and stopped walking.

"Hey Spence," JJ said lightly. "How are my two favorite boys?"

"Splendidly fine," Reid said as calmly as possible. "In so far the only casualty was my dignity, few brain-cells and my study. I'm holding onto last shreds of sanity I have left which isn't much but unlike some unlucky souls from Monday on I'm on a leave so in the end I will be fine. Especially after I will hand over the kids to their respective parents."

"All of them?" JJ asked curiously.

"Nine out of ten," Reid quipped. "I like one the most, I think I'm going to keep her. Did you talk with Garcia?"

"About?" JJ asked.

"Did you?" Reid pressed.

"Yes," JJ confirmed. "But I want you to say it."

"Full sentence?" Reid asked skeptically.

"Would be the most welcomed," JJ giggled.

"Jennifer Anne Jareau as of yesterday you are…" Reid looked around and saw that aside of the tandem stroller with the girls and Jack on his shoulders his Mum and other kids weren't around. "Fuck," he breathed out and quickly added, "Got to go. I will call you back in few minutes."

He hung up and asked Jack, "Do you know where they went?"

"Down," Jack said simply.

He always considered himself as the last person to curse and even when he did he kept his curses intellectual for the most of the time. Very rarely, in fact never before, he found himself reduced to the mental chant of 'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking, fuckety, fuck' which he once heard from Morgan after really bad case.

But there was the first time for everything, even that.

Sometime later he realized that he had absolutely no memories of the time between he discovered that his Mum with Henry, Zack, Rose, Linda, Molly, Chip and Dale disappeared from his view until the moment he found them seated on the bench chatting happily as if they just didn't give him the scare of his life.

For all that he knew between point A and point B he could have done anything. Have a heart attack and recover, fall from the stairs, go completely grey and return to his natural hair color.

"What stopped you?" Molly asked curiously.

"What **didn't** stop you?" Reid breathed out. "Never mind. Let's go back."

"Does DC have gardens?" his Mum asked simply.

"There is National Botanical Garden," Molly said simply. "I was in there once, few years back. It's very beautiful."

"Georgetown has few interesting gardens," Reid said quickly.

Except that once Molly brought it up Chip and Dale along with Zack and Jack followed the idea and he had found himself grievously outnumbered sitting in Orange line and waiting how much time it will take JJ to summon SWAT and an army for scaring the life out of her.

He knew that if it was him hearing what she heard he would end deploying TWO SWAT units.

Luckily or not the metro ride was a short one and fifteen minutes after his exclamation they were getting out of metro at Federal Center and he was calling JJ as soon as he managed to herd the whole bunch across the street.

"I hope that in spite of your rather surprising exclamation my son is in one piece and breathing?" JJ asked nervously.

Reid looked down at Henry who managed to unbuckle his sandals and put his hands in them. Other than expressing his desire to walk on his hands Henry was fine.

"He seems to be rather happy if you ask me," Reid said simply as he looked at Cynthia, who unbuckled her sandal and but her hand in it. "Though he is setting bad example. But I will forgive him on the grounds that he is the youngest and miffed that he got separated from his sparing partners."

"Seriously, how are you managing, Spence?" JJ asked with a sigh. "It's six kids."

"Ten," Reid corrected her. "I have one aggressor in a single stroller, two sparing partners in the other. Tandem stroller has two straps which means that I have five years olds in close proximity, all of them because the third is riding piggy back. Remaining four are old enough to walk around without leash though I'm tempted to buy one."

"Ten kids?" JJ asked skeptically. "Two strollers?"

"They doubled in number since yesterday but other than that nothing really happened," Reid said simply. "To them at the very least."

"Spence?" JJ asked cautiously. "What happened?"

"Game of blind tag ended as let's pile up on blindfolded Reid so I ended with few bruises but other than that…"

"You got shot," Jack interjected.

"Thank you, Smartypants," Reid muttered.

"Spencer?" his Mum asked cautiously.

Reid groaned and raised his arms showing off the bandages before he said, "Trust me hot milk did more damage and for the record it wasn't my gun. I'm fine, I'm in one piece, kids are fine and in one piece."

"How?" his Mum pressed.

"We went out for breakfast and an armed junkie came in," Reid said grimly. "He left as disarmed and handcuffed junkie, additionally arrested for possession of illegal substances and firearms as well as an assault on federal agent and you can take my word that he looked worse when I was done with him."

"Doctor Cameron patched him up," Molly said dryly.

"Cut it off, Mols," Reid muttered.

"Really good," Molly smirked.

"It's called territorialism, isn't it?" Chip asked innocently.

"I would call it severely overprotective streak," Dale quipped.

"Spencer?" his Mum looked at him.

"Mum, I'm fine," Reid sighed. "It's just a grizzle. I got deeper scratches from tripping on the pavement."

"Were there more?" his Mum asked pointedly.

"No, I was the only one and everything ended well, for everybody aside of the junkie," Reid said calmly. "I'm thirty," he groaned.

"Twenty-nine," his Mum pointed out.

"So, after I got from the phone you got shot and you didn't call me back?" JJ asked skeptically.

"Yes, because calling you back wouldn't change anything and since I was the only injured party you really didn't have to come back on my account I decided to not mention the incident until I was handing your son back to you," Reid said simply. "I wouldn't even tell Hotch a word if it wasn't for the babbler who was holding my phones when I was getting stitched."

"Spence!" JJ hissed.

"What?" Reid asked pointedly.

"We are coming back. Now," JJ said quickly.

"You don't have…" Reid started.

"Stop arguing with me," JJ hissed. "Where are you?"

"By the gates of National Botanical Garden," Reid quipped. "And I'm not coming back for another hour or two and you aren't sending Garcia after me…"

"I'm not," JJ said simply. "We are coming back because it turned out that Auntie was getting very lonely and last two times she made that call I was on a case. She is one…"

"JJ," Reid muttered.

"Attention seeking old fraud," Will coughed. "I tried to explain it to JJ but she wasn't listening."

"She isn't listening to me either," Reid said simply. "Everything is fine. Henry is one piece even if he sulks because he got separated from his sparing partners. He slept through both nights without a problem, devoured everything I put in front of him and few things I didn't put in front of him but apparently more experienced and older parties have better knowledge about child rearing than I do and I had no grounds for protesting. Turns out that your munchkin _actually_ likes broccoli but he is partial to the Reid family recipe of pureed broccoli with garlic bread."

"Who got that?" Will asked curiously.

"My aunt, she is a genius when it comes to cooking," Reid shrugged. "She covered all nada, bleh and meh within fifteen minutes and I even got a cook-book from her. It has all child-friendly recipes I remember being subjected too."

"How is Cynthia adapting?" Will asked.

"In great leaps, few of which left me landing on my bum from shock. Speaking about leaps…" Reid sighed.

"We are already packed and ready to leave," Will chuckled. "We just had to stay a day to please the monster. She is… She calls at least once a year making big drama out of simple sneeze and she has been doing it for last twenty years. For last few years I managed to get away without dragging JJ and only once with dragging Henry…"

"Park and ice-cream tomorrow?" Reid offered. "To celebrate last bits of freedom?"

"You are an ass, Spence," Will snickered. "What about you?"

"Two weeks off and then we will see," Reid said simply. "It all depends from Cynthia. I might end teaching at the academy like someone else," he added pointedly. "JJ isn't trying to take her phone back, is she?"

"She is looking for her second shoe," Will said dryly. "In the bathroom."

"And where is the shoe?" Reid quipped.

"I'm sitting on it and later I will play dumb," Will said simply. "If I will manage to slow her down for next ten minutes we won't make it to the airport in time for the first flight."

"Good luck with that," Reid nodded. "Fly safe."

Few minutes later he wished that he didn't hang up on Will and didn't tell him to try to make it for the first flight.

He hated hibiscus.

_He really, really hated hibiscus._

And he really, really pissed off some higher power which had him _nicely_ distracted until the very last moment.

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><p><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>

_Next chapter: Hibiscus amongst other things. Reid in trouble (again). Salvation (yet again). More madness (yet again)._


	14. Chapter 14: Hibiscus

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

**_Reviews are greatly appreciated._**

_Chapter summary: _Hibiscus amongst other things. Reid in trouble (again). Salvation (yet again). More madness (yet again). Have I mentioned madness? Forget madness, it's Madness. Also if Reid's behavior further in the chapter seems like out of character I do have an explanation for that (at the bottom of the page).__

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><p><strong>Chapter fourteen<strong>**: Hibiscus.**

He admired in flowers their delicacy he saw when they bloomed. Their stubbornness to sprout from a tiny seed through the layer of soil, to climb up towards the sun. Their innocence, their fragrance, their fragility.

He loved flowers. That's why in spite of his germophobia when he could devote some time to his garden, especially in the spring he was deliriously happy.

He admired lilies, irises, hyacinths, daffodils, narcissus. One year on purpose he even spilled a pack of poppy seeds by the west wall and spend the summer observing poppy flowers taking over his garden. There was no hidden meaning, no desire for opioids. Just the bold redness of the poppy flowers and their delicacy he could admire from his porch.

Inside the house the only flower that lived was a cactus and violets because of their iron will to outlive both the cactus and their owner.

He loved all flowers but he hated hibiscus.

_He really, really hated hibiscus._

Depending from the country the meaning of hibiscus varied. For example giving someone a hibiscus flower meant that you were wishing them a nice summer. In Victorian meaning it had one simple translation, delicate beauty. But in Hawaii hibiscus was not only the state flower but it had deeper meaning, old royalty, it's great power and respect that came from it. In Japanese hanakotoba it meant gentle, a simple flower you could give anyone without any hidden meaning.

Nice summer, delicate beauty, old royalty and gentleness aside for Spencer Reid hibiscus flower had one major meaning that trampled over other four.

The meaning was: _hellish allergy_.

When it came to plants he had two things he tried to avoid like a plague. Spinach and hibiscus. First on principals of hating the green disgust. The second on the grounds of the most peculiar allergic reaction ever.

He could drink hibiscus tea without dropping dead due to severe allergic reaction to hibiscus itself. Quite in contrary he could drink unhealthy amounts of hibiscus tea and he wouldn't even sneeze. But when it came to flower itself…

… when it came to blooming hibiscus flower his eyes started watering to the point when he wasn't able to see anything, his already poor eyesight aside, he got a runny nose that made him feel like he suffered from the worst cold ever and he always ended sneezing his lungs out.

Long time ago he learned to avoid National Botanical Garden like a plague not because other issues other than the allergy and because NBG was selling insane amount of potted hibiscus because under their care the flowers grew like crazy which meant that everytime Spencer Reid wandered to NBG he ended sneezing and almost blind for the better part of the trip.

Normally it wouldn't be a problem if it was just him. Because then he could plant his butt on the first bench that was far away enough from hibiscus to recover from allergic reaction.

However in company of his Mum and ten kids sitting down was impossible in the exact definition of the word.

For starters Rose and Linda lost their grasp on the stroller and made a beeline to ever flower on their path and once they wandered off Jack proclaimed that it was the highest time for him to 'do some walking on his own' and once those three had wandered off so did the older four and remaining three started getting fussy.

So in the end he was stuck with ten kids running around as they wanted and he was still as blind as a bat. But a decent bat had echolocation and his echolocation was nonexistent.

Twice his Mum had to stop him from grabbing a random kid on his path which in one way or the other bore some resemblance to either of the ten. Third time she wasn't fast enough.

"Jack," he gasped out.

"I'm not Jack," the boy proclaimed. "But I can be Jack if you will help me to find my mummy," the kid added hopefully.

"Where is your mummy?" Reid asked patiently.

"Mrs Benign said that my mummy is underground," the boy declared.

"And what's your full name?" Reid sighed,

"Bobby," the boy said. "Robertson."

"Did you come here on your own?" Reid asked, even if he knew that no kid should sneak past the line.

"Yes," Bobby said swiftly.

_Robert Robertson. Someone really hated the kid._

He dialed Garcia and didn't have to wait long for an answer.

"Garcia, I need you to look up Robert Robertson, in variations, possibly in concern to Mrs Benign," he said quickly. "Fast would be welcomed."

"Where have you gone, Boy Wonder?" Garcia asked sweetly. "And why you need Robert Robertson."

"National Botanical Garden," Reid answered. "I found him, he seems to be all on his own."

"Hibiscus?" Garcia asked sympathetically. "How old is he?"

"He comes in Jack size," Reid answered. "I say somewhere between four and six. I would tell you more once I would be able to see better. And the factory isn't working anymore."

"Factory?" Garcia asked skeptically. "I thought that you sniffed hibiscus not…"

"I sniffed hibiscus but I wasn't the only one," Reid added pointedly. "Something recent if it narrows your search."

"Oh, you mean that, Cupcake," Garcia said swiftly. "One Bobby Robertson, aged four to six, recently orphaned by his mother coming in…" there was a longer pause and then, "Nada, zilch. No Bobby Robertsons in any variations. In fact only Robert Robertson in big DC pool is a dead owner of a flowershop."

"What's Mrs Benign name, Bobby?" Reid asked as he wiped his eyes a bit.

"Mrs Benign," Bobby said simply. "She doesn't have any other name."

"I heard that," Garcia quipped. "One Mrs Benign coming…"

**WHAM!** Something smashed into his head.

"You! You! You…" a screech tore over his head when something smashed into his head repeatedly.

"Can I kindly point out that it's federal agent you are assaulting Mrs Benign?" Molly asked innocently. "Do you think that Mr Robertson would like to learn that during the walk you not only insulted the memory of his son's mother but also assaulted federal agent off duty when said federal agent was trying to help your son."

"Federal-schmederal!" the woman screeched. "You will release the boy at once!" the woman huffed.

It was quite a normal reaction except Reid let go off the boy as soon as he realized that Bobby wasn't Jack.

"My name is Molly Hannah Berkeley. I want to report an assault on a federal agent at National Botanical Garden. The attacker in question is named Mrs Benign, she is the nanny of Robert 'Bobby' Robertson. I assume that it's big money and she doesn't look exactly sober. The agent in question is Supervisory Special Agent Doctor Spencer Aaron William Reid from Behavioral Analysis Unit from Federal Bureau of Investigation. He would be calling himself if he wasn't assaulted and other than that temporarily handicapped by allergic reaction…" he heard Molly's voice. "Thank you, Mrs Sanchez, I will be eagerly awaiting the officers. Oh, look who's coming. That was fast."

Mrs Benign stopped whacking him with what he assumed was an umbrella or a walking stick (he didn't try to concentrate on _what_ it was rather on _how_ to avoid it).

"Mr Robertson," Molly said sweetly. "Why your drunk employee is hitting federal agent repeatedly?"

"Mrs Beingn stop it right now," came a snort. "Federal agent, huh?"

Huh quickly changed to repeated 'I'm terribly sorry Mr Reid' as soon as Reid managed to fish out his credentials and mutter something about psychopathic nannies. It took him another five minutes to get the Robertsons lost by saying that he won't be pressing charges as long as they would let him enjoy the day with his nephews and nieces in peace (not that it was a technical lie).

He however ended pitting the boy and the adventure was widely commented by his companions shortly after Reid regained minimal ability to see the kids.

"So what's the profile for that?" Dale asked curiously.

"My Mum would say, liver transplant in near future," Molly quipped.

"Whatever floats Mr Robertson's boat," his Mum commented. "Could be Oedipus complex."

"Mum!" Reid groaned. "There are children in here."

"Which means that in spite of your IQ and proclaimed title of a provable genius you are quite ready to go along with storks and cabbages," Chip snorted. "How ignorant…"

"So in what you believe, Chipmunk?" Reid snorted.

"The miracle of love," Chip quipped.

"I have a younger sister," Zack added.

"And I have bad memories," Jack added. "Of mummy and Frank. I walked on them once, there was loud before, later it was not."

"Mummy was seeing Uncle Milo for a longer while," Rose added.

"Without clothes," Linda murmured.

"Great," Reid groaned. "Now we can all go to a therapy."

"You are making a big deal of something which isn't a big deal, Spencer," his Mum said simply.

"He is just assuming," Dale said simply. "And everybody knows what assuming means."

"My school might not cover reproduction but I'm the oldest from three," Molly said pointedly. "Stop blushing, it's not that you have reasons for it."

"You are annoying," Reid muttered.

"You work in Virginia," Chip snickered.

"I hate you, Chipmunk," Reid groaned.

"Foreshadowing?" Dale asked innocently.

"Chip! Dale!" Reid barked. "If you don't stop now I will give you a risky rescue… I'm not a blushing virgin!"

"Date please," Chip snickered.

"You are as bad as Sammy and Danny," Reid snorted. "1st April 2011."

"Cynthia is three and half," Dale quipped.

"Ever heard of sarcasm?" Reid asked pointedly. "It's not your business, Dalliance."

"If you say so," Dale shrugged.

"Great, now that we established it can you find another topic of the conversation? One that won't end with a serious therapy," Reid asked.

"There are ridiculous therapies?" Zack asked innocently.

**Famous Last Words**

Luckily for him, not that he believed in luck, he believed in odds and these were actually in his favor he managed to make it through one hundred and ten minutes of recalling his knowledge of biology in the most bizarre aspects.

Odds seemed to still be in his favor when they were leaving the garden too because he hadn't encounter even a single hibiscus on his path back to the gates.

Odds were also still working in his favor because in spite of stressful situation his Mum didn't suffer from an episode, yet.

In fact, from the two of them she was the one who seemed to enjoy the whole outing more. She basked in the attention she received from the kids as she regaled them with Arthurian legends and the legends itself worked better than a leash when it came to keeping whole ten in very close vicinity.

By the time Arthur pulled Excalibur from the stone Cynthia, Henry and Rory dozed off. Rose and Linda didn't but they weren't exactly in a position to doze off seeing that on their were out the twins managed to wrestle stroller ride on a blanket covered footrests.

Somehow the stroller was surviving additional weight and so was Reid because Jack was greatly partial to piggy back.

Reid himself was partial to coffee… in tank size and therefore after nearly an hour since they left NBG he ordered mammoth sized chocolate cappuccino at Georgetown Café where he managed to round the whole munch in relatively close proximity to his home without having to enter the black hole that his house was at the moment.

Molly, Chip, Dale, Zack, Jack, Rose and Linda eagerly succumbed to demolishing vanilla sundae and blessedly Henry, Cynthia and Rory were still sleeping (and in case they would wake up Reid knew how to appease them).

So while the conversation at 'kid' table drifted towards cartoons and general scheming Reid found himself partially deaf to the later and momentarily disinterested in the former because of greater schemer than aforementioned seven combined in the form of his Mum who was calmly sipping her hot chocolate and acting as if she just didn't drop a nuclear bomb on him.

It was a nuclear bomb in the form of a simple statement.

"Virginia has psychiatric hospitals."

And because his mind supplied him with data in question before his common sense stopped him from opening his mouth he said swiftly, "Two within twenty miles."

"Are they any good?" his Mum asked simply.

On that question he managed to keep his mouth shut from going into government reports and statistics.

"Tina said that Doctor Cameron is a psychiatrist," his Mum continued. "I'm sure that she can point a good one."

She certainly would if asked, not that Reid was planning to ask her.

"You know the staff at Bennington, Mum," he said calmly.

"I do," she agreed. "So what?"

"You never had problems with Bennington before," Reid said pointedly.

"I didn't have a granddaughter before either," she shrugged. "And I would like to see her more than twice in a year."

That was a blow below the belt.

"Mum…" he started.

"Don't you dare to feel guilty, Spencer," she rolled her eyes. "Mother always knows. Don't think that I wasn't angry, I was. We know that I won't miraculously recover. I know that I need medication and you need to live your life, on your own. I'm not asking for removal from the hospital. I'm asking for the change of thereof."

"What about your friends at Bennington?" Reid asked patiently.

"Doctor Norman? Nurse Tracy? Catatonic Lucy?" his Mum asked. "I can always write them. Tony most probably would love to read about snow. I do have all of your letters, I remember that one of them holds a very detailed account of you trying to ice skate and landing in a pile of snow which means that it snows in Virginia and I would love to see white Christmas for once, see the change in scenery rather than simply feel that it's getting slightly colder."

"I strongly suggest pouting, Diana," said a small blonde haired woman. "Works on my daughter splendidly."

"The blonde one?" his Mum asked curiously.

"You know one another?" Reid asked skeptically.

"Cynthia, post-scripted," the woman introduced herself.

"Post-scripted?" Reid asked curiously.

"Term of endearment, my grandson found it. So he came with post-scripted, de-scripted, cast-scripted and mix-scripted," Cynthia said swiftly. "Forging the signature works fairly well too," she added as she looked at his Mum. "I wonder how long it will take Bennington to figure out the rouse."

"What's your last name Cynthia?" Reid asked cautiously.

"Not that fast, Sweetness," the woman smiled. "You have a cute son, Diana. But a bit too curious."

"A bit too stubborn too," his Mum added. "You were saying Cynthia? Something about forging the signature."

"How do you think I got myself out?" Cynthia asked simply. "Mother's place is by the family. All my family is in DC so I should be in DC… or Virginia depending from the hospital. My Baby Boy was watching prospects with me, he had two suggestions he weaseled out from my Angel… Imagine two years of nagging and coming with nothing. It became mildly frustrating."

"And how did you get there?" his Mum asked curiously.

"Plane, I love flying, I know that it's a bit unconventional but I can't help it, I love it. I was flying since I was very little and the script didn't take it. The buses are confusing though. I know that I should be heading towards the hospital but not really."

"Hospital might be good idea," Reid interjected.

"Sweet, but I have my medication and I need to scare my youngling before I _won't_ try to run away again. My family has a perchance on putting things on the edge of the knife and waiting for the other shoe to drop," Cynthia shrugged. "But you can help me with the address if you want to help."

"I would love to," Reid said quickly.

"Not so fast," Cynthia smirked. "Diana told me that you are a smart boy and I know that smartness is hereditary. Try to not protest."

"I'm not protesting," Reid objected. "I'm trying to point out the amount of change…"

"…by providing counterarguments to what I'm saying," his Mum finished.

"Doctors, rooms, medication, friends, stability," Reid counted out.

"Psychiatrist are everywhere, especially in big cities," his Mum said.

"All rooms have four walls, door and an occasional window," Cynthia added.

"Doctors have medication," his Mum said swiftly.

"And no one forbids anyone from making new friends," Cynthia quipped.

"As for stability…" his Mum sighed. "Knowing that I can see you and Cynthia more than twice a year is more than stability."

"Point taken, besides after a while Vegas gets dull, especially when you can't get out and lose some money," Cynthia shrugged. "Big J used to take me to casinos, he was a hell of a player."

"So you said," his Mum smiled. "How much?"

"Apparently enough to make doctors from our daughters and save some for our grandson," Cynthia nodded. "Not to mention the expenses on the hospital. Oh, and that's a good point Diana. Hospitals in Virginia are cheaper than Vegas and in smaller ones you get better care."

"What kind of doctors?" Reid asked hoping to direct the conversation to the surname so he could call Bennington which in return will call Cynthia's relative.

"Good ones," Cynthia quipped.

"I was asking for specialty, I need a good pediatrician," he said quickly.

"Then you will need to look harder because mine dots hadn't went into pediatric medicine," Cynthia shrugged.

"Can I ask for specifics?" Reid changed the tactic.

"You can but it doesn't mean that I'm going to answer," Cynthia said simply.

"He is a federal agent remember," his Mum smiled.

"You mentioned it once or twice," Cynthia shrugged. "Good cop, bad cop, wise cop, stupid cop. I know all of your tricks Sweetie and I'm not going to succumb to any of your hooks. Concentrate on your Mum while I will remain maddeningly unhelpful."

"I'm a federal agent," Reid stated.

"Cute," Cynthia quipped. "Does it bother you Diana?"

"Not as much as it used too," his Mum shrugged. "He maneuvered himself into a corner, Cynthia. If he will say that he works for government because the bureau is federal then he risks upsetting me just as much as upsetting you."

"However his goal is getting my surname out of me so he can call Bennington which in return will call my daughter to inform her that her mommy dearest had done a runner," Cynthia said simply.

That it took him this long to figure out what to do meant only that he was completely exhausted physically and quite shaken mentally to not think of it sooner.

It was just this simple. Call Bennington and ask for a blonde haired patient named Cynthia who left the hospital on forged permission. Seriously how many paranoid schizophrenics fit that description?

"You are in trouble," his Mum said to Cynthia.

"I know," Cynthia shrugged. "But it was entertaining nevertheless. Ding dong, he is going to call Bennington."

"How do you know that?" Reid asked skeptically.

"Sweetie I brought up three kids before I ended in hospital," Cynthia said sweetly. "Besides your ability to cover dawning realization needs tuning to less obvious level."

Reid shook his head and was already dialing Bennington and Doctor Norman.

"Can I ask you for a favor, Doctor Norman?" Reid asked calmly. "I'm sitting at a café in DC, my mother is with me and we run into one of her fellow patients from Bennington. During the conversation I learned that said patient didn't leave the hospital legally…"

"Mere technicalities," Cynthia quipped.

"She is about five foot four inches tall. Blonde. Identified herself as post-scripted. Is named Cynthia and refuses to give her last name. She left the hospital within last twenty-four hours," Reid continued.

"She is not one of mine patients but post-scripted part I heard before," Doctor Norman said. "One of my colleagues has several schizophrenics in new wing and scripted is running term of endearment there."

"I would be eagerly awaiting your call," Reid said before he hung up and smiled at both his Mum and Cynthia, "More hot chocolate?"

"You are stalling and avoiding," his Mum shook her head.

"Attempting to stall and avoid," Cynthia smirked.

"There is a difference?" Molly asked curiously.

"Success my munchkin," Cynthia said simply. "Yours?" she looked at Reid curiously.

"One yes, others I'm babysitting," Reid confirmed. "So for the rest of the day they are technically mine."

His phone rang and he quickly picked the call.

"Reid," he said.

"How is your day?" Cameron asked quickly. "Because mine sucks."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said sympathetically. "It gets better."

"No, it doesn't," Cameron muttered. "Did you know that schizophrenia is genetically passed?"

"Are we playing ask a random question to which we both know the answer?" Reid asked skeptically.

"No," Cameron snorted. "We are playing in: your case of weekend bad luck is infectious and somehow I got infected. I seriously need to clone myself so one me can head to CG and deal with Chicago crap while the other one will turn around and board a return flight to DC five minutes after I got off the plane, the third me will go to Orlando and the fourth me will lock herself up in a padded room."

"Did something happened?" Reid asked quickly.

"Nothing really," Cameron huffed. "My narcissistic sister had done something utterly stupid and someone needs to take care of her newborn daughter. My son broke an arm within ten minutes of stepping into amusement park and is now in surgery. My mother pulled a runner. But hey I'm a psychiatrist I deal with insanity on daily basis. For the record I'm reporting Reidis Badluckis to CDC…"

"There is no infectious diseases with that name," Reid pointed out.

"Try to think in positives, your family is in one place and in one piece," Cameron snorted. "I didn't get any call concerning Ruby if it makes your day get better."

"Perhaps I can help?" he offered.

"You already did," Cameron muttered. "I just needed to blow off some steam and the alternative was hitting someone and spending the night in jail. I'm sorry that it had to be you."

"You welcome," Reid sighed. "Reidis Badluckis?"

"Sounds better than Shit Magnet for Geniuses Deluxe," Cameron quipped. "Either way it's contagious and it needs to be reported. Additionally public awareness needs to be increased."

"I will see what I can do about the t-shirts," Reid smirked. "Do you think it's curable?"

"I only know that it's contagious," Cameron deadpanned. "Either way, bye, I need to go."

"Reidis Badluckis?" his Mum asked curiously after he hung up.

"Bad luck is contagious, Mum," Reid said simply.

"It sounds like misery likes company," Cynthia said. "You are still avoiding the answer."

"I'm not the only one, you still refuse to give your name," Reid pointed out. "First letter perhaps."

"All you need to know, Sweetie, is that it's contained in my name too, you have seven possibilities, keep on trying," Cynthia shrugged.

"You didn't have to tell him that. Now he won't rest until he will find out," his Mum said with small smile as she winked at him.

"I can also tell him that my surname has exactly the same number of letters as my name and three of them repeat in my surname and it still gets him nowhere," Cynthia smirked.

"It's the first letter a vowel?" Reid asked.

"Nope," Cynthia quipped. "You are down to four possibilities and you are still nowhere."

"So it's a riddle?" Molly asked eagerly. "C, N, T, H. Come on, let's work on this," she turned to the other kids.

"You are unable to resist temptation," his Mum smiled.

"I can, I have Enigma," Reid shrugged as he motioned at the kids.

"Yet you are forgetting that your Enigma is completely bribable," Cynthia quipped. "I will buy the one who guess correctly triple Delicious Chocolate special and the rest Vanilla sundae in appreciation for the efforts."

"I will make it quadruple if you tell me," Reid said dryly.

"Your son is a poker player, Diana," Cynthia smirked.

"He is from Vegas, Cynthia," his Mum smirked. "That and he cheats."

"I don't!" Reid protested. "Poker it's mathematics, it's statistics… I have a doctorate in mathematics, I can't help calculating odds."

"Where I'm coming from we call it counting cards, socially acceptable term for cheating," Cynthia shrugged. "My oldest specialized in it and she bribed my youngest and my grandson. Playing with them is like playing casino, kind of pointless if you think about it harder."

"Do you want to play?" Reid offered.

"And the bargain is revealing my surname, right?" Cynthia said simply. "No way, Cuteness."

"I can see how you were able to bring up three kids," his Mum smiled.

"Kids are easily distracted," Cynthia shrugged. "All you have to do is to focus their attention elsewhere. My middle one was easily distracted, the oldest and youngest were harder to fool until the oldest became de-scripted. She got the worst combination of genes in the family. Both schizophrenia and Wilson's disease in neuropsychiatric form. Now that's a shit magnet if you ask me."

"And her son?" Reid asked pensively.

"Is fine for now," Cynthia said simply. "Stop interrogating me, Sweetie. You are getting too far away from initial subject at hand which is your Mum."

"I'm just admiring your ability to thwart his efforts," his Mum smiled. "Are you stumped already, Spencer?"

"Not really," Reid shrugged. "With patience one can achieve more than with force," he smirked.

"The more I talk the more ammunition you get," Cynthia nodded. "Not much of an arsenal if you ask me but I cannot help but admire your persistence, Spencer."

Suddenly Molly stood up, approached Cynthia and whispered something into her ear.

"You will get quadruple delicious chocolate and the rest of them will get a triple one if you won't breath a word about it to him," she motioned at Reid with her hand, "for next two months."

"Oh come on," Reid snorted. "I raise to two triple delicious chocolate per head."

"It's not a matter of a bribe, Sawyer," Dale quipped. "It's a matter of principles. Your Enigma is going on strike and nothing is more funnier than knowing something which you don't."

Stumped again, he snorted inwardly. But there was another way of achieving the goal. Getting his hands on the pills.

"Can I see your medication, Cynthia?" he asked calmly.

"No, you can't," Cynthia said simply. "It's very shy and it doesn't like strangers."

"I'm not a stranger," Reid pointed out. "Or didn't you spend last half of hour at talking with me."

"Nice one," Cynthia quipped as she handed the money for ice-cream to Molly. "You can try to figure it out if you want but it still won't change the facts. My daughter always that the only more pointless thing than arguing with stubborn paranoid schizophrenic is beating the flies with a Cadillac. Come to think about it it's also an answer to your problem. I've got to go, my chariot awaits me, places to be, psychs to drive crazy…"

With that she stood up and left.

"She has a point, you know Spencer," his Mum said simply. "Stop protesting and just succumb."

"You aren't going to drop it?" Reid sighed.

"No," his Mum shook her head.

"I will think about it," Reid rubbed his temples. "Once I will get a moment of peace and by moment I mean an hour at the minimum. I'm not promising anything."

The smirk and wink she gave him indicated that his Mum though better than that. He knew that he was stumped. He could feel it in his bones.

He really pissed some deity recently. If only he could remember which one…

* * *

><p><strong><em>Like it? Hate it? Let me know.<em>**

_Next chapter: The return to the Black Hole also known as Reid's house, few confrontations, more madness. Reidis Badluckis will bite again_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

_Reid is a genius. But let's recount to what he was subjected in a matter of forty-eight hours:_

_Baby-sitting four kids on demand, three of which he'd meet for the very first time. Three hours drive with dubious performance of nursery rhymes by The Berkeley-Hotchner Howling Band, with and without Henry LaMontagne and Whining Alsatian Named Clooney. In between he was verbally attacked by a well-meaning old lady and later by less well-meaning veteran. Then he was subjected to Tornado Named Clooney and the hit of puberty in the oldest, not something FBI agents are prepared, especially single, male ones._

_Next day he was shot in both arms with the same bullet, was subjected repeatedly to verbal jabs and his ability to handle the kids was questioned. In zoo he was defeated by gravity, run by tandem stroller (with cargo), preyed by desperate women. Then he was subjected to the horror of his extended family. Additionally he was subjected to spinach and he had to eat it by under the pressure. Then he learned that he was a father (which is more than enough to shake up a man who was taking counter-measures to it), in shock he informed his extended family (the part he was actually fond off), got subjected to the visit he wasn't prepared for on any ground). He also faced his father and that seemed to be the crowning jewel._

_Next day he was subjected not exactly in that order to: his cousins, Garcia, Morgan, being physically assaulted, being tied up to the beanpole, realization that his finances landed in serious negatives, being chased out of his house and home (more or less in order to protect his sanity). He was also subjected to schemers, his ability to handle the kids, losing aforementioned in metro, getting into botanical garden, severe allergy, angry, drunk and armed nannies and nuclear bomb of negotiating with his mum (and come to think about it Reid is stubborn and stubbornness runs in the family), toping it with extremely unhelpful intruder._

_After a weekend of this kind chasing serial killers seems like a walk in the park. He was also right about patience because the more Cynthia would talk the more he would know, she just didn't chose to stay long enough for him to figure it out (at least in this chapter)._

_Don't worry, he is going to use his brain for thinking, once he will shift the responsibility of watching the kids and his mum on someone else._


End file.
